



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



































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KARIN 


From the German of Wilhelm Jensen 

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; . . i • *' '.'l- - '• - , 

BY 


LILLIE A, MERGU^, 

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HIRAM T. MERCUR, Publisher, 
TO WANDA, PA., 

1889 . 



Entered according to an Act of Congress, in the year 1882, by 
HIRAM T. MERCUR, 


In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 






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“ K'bnig Gustav lieb ’ ich gewisslich eehr , 

Dock Gustav Rosen vergesse ich nimmermehr 




















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KARIN. 


CHAPTER I. 


These are the falls of Trollhatta. They have 
thundered here thousands and thousands of 
years before a human ear was nigh to hear them. 
They dash their silvery spray far opt over the 
rocks, and the^ sunlight glistens and glitters 
upon it in gladsome colors. But beneath the 
dazzling, majestic veil the rushing and roaring 
waters are surging and sighing. 

These are the falls of Trollhatte. The cen- 
turies are lost in the voice of their thunder. 
The boy who played by their side gro we to man- 
hood and his hair whitens. And when for the 
last time he totters out to them upon his staff, 
they are as on the day when first he beheld them, 
bordered with flowois like the Spring, and snow 
white like the Winter. 

Well for him who would forget to sit upon 
their brink, for the falling waters deaden me- 
mory. They approach like the fate of man, 
peaceful and transparent, kissing the nodding 
grasses that bend above them. Then a whirl 
and a more rapid rushing— unconscious of im- 
pending evil — but the stillness and transparen- 
cy are gone, never more to return. Faster they 
glide along, impelled by an imperative and irre- 
sistible force, till they are drawn at length into 
the devoux-ing chasm below. 

When the first forms of men — with flat faces 
and projecting cheek-bones, yellow hair above 
pallid brows, thin beards clinging like dried 
autumnal grasses to their chins, and shaggy 
skins about their loins,— came chasing the rein- 
deer rom the forests of the South, they were 
greeted by the thunder of the Trollhatta. Was 
it years, was it ages, that they dwelt by its 
waters? They wrote no books which bear 
record of it, only the waves of Trollhatta mur- 
mured their history. It was dyed red with 
their blood, shed by the palefaced conquerors 
whom the Baltic brought hither in clumsy boats. 
As irresistible and incessant as the falling 


waters of Trollhatta, the people of Europe 
pressed onward. Then hymns of praise to Odin 
resounded on its shares, and his descendants 
came down to earth, and ruled over the tribes 
of the Goths and Swedes. They were called 
Ynglings, and styled themselves Kings of Up- 
sala. Centuries came and went. They who 
would hear this record of ancient days, how 
they sank never to return into the all-devouring 
abyss of time, may read it in the thunder of 
Trollhatta. 

And again the South gave birth to a mighty 
volcanic movement, and the Baltic bore it across. 
The message of Christianity penetrated to the 
rocky fastness of the Schneehattan, and a 
powerful race called Eolkungs, mounted the 
Swedish throne. They built up a mighty em- 
pire, but as its boundaries widened, greed, ava- 
rice and ambition stept in, and they who had 
risen highest fell crushed to the depths below, 
like the seething waters of Trollhatta. 

Then across the narrow strait that divides 
Sweden from Zealand, came for the first time 
the descendants of the old Normans who had 
established on sea-girt islands the kingdom of 
the Vikings. A firm hand united the small 
Danish nation so that it boldly opposed the 
mightiest, and Sweden, weakened by party strife, 
fell an easy prey. A few miles from the falls 
of Trollhatta, atFalkoping, the country fell into 
the hands of a woman, and Margaret of Den- 
mark ruled with a victor’s haughtiness over the 
descendants of Odin. 

Gloom and anger brooded over Trollhatta. 
He who sat by its sullen waves must have 
heard how it proclaimed in its thundering fall 
from the height the insolence of the oppressor, 
and muttered in the depths with hollow rever- 
beration the shame of the oppressed. 

Had Karl Knutson caught their hidden mean- 
ing that, grasping his sword, he hewed the 
Danish chains asunder? 

Mayhap, but those who succeeded him heed- 


2 


KARIN. 


ed it little. The nobles of the land, jealous of 
tho supreme power, would no longer submit to 
the sovereignty of the king. For though Sten 
Sture was nominally invested with the royal 
dignity and handed it down to son and grandson 
the imperious nobility acknowledged them only 
as regents, and profited b/ every occasion to 
lessen their real authority. Mournfully flowed 
Trollhatta’s waters, for the glory and greatness 
of Sweden was an idle name. Upon it rested 
the shadow of the Union of Calmar, established 
by its first victor Margaret, and by virtue of 
which the kings of Denmark were equally en- 
titled to the crowns of Sweden and Norway. 
The short-sighted Swedish nobility may have 
been blinded by the fact that none of the de- 
scendants had been strong enough to enforce 
the claim — the waters of Trollhatta could not 
be deceived, they rolled with thundering warn- 
ing to meet the grandson of Margaret, when he 
sprang, sword in hand, to the Swedish coast, to 
secure by force the crown of the (Jalmaric Union. 
Once again, it is true, they rose in exultation 
when Cnristian II., after a bloody struggle at 
Brannkyrkt, fled before Sten Sture, but he 
again advanced and Sten Sture fell. Tne firm, 
benevolent hand, which bad bent the obstinate 
wills ot the nobles to the welfare of the land, 
lay lifeless in the dust, and Christian II. 
grasped with a smile the crown which the Swe- 
dish nobility proffered him iff ore readily than if 
one of their number had aspired to the golden 
circlet. He placed the crown upon his head in 
the church at Stockholm; lie received the 
Sacrament with a holy oath to respect the Con- 
stitution of Sweden, and freely to forgive the 
past. Merriment and rejoicing reigned in the 
streets of Stockholm through three November 
days. Night was turned to day, for the sun 
rose ere the lights burned dim in the royal 
castle. The glasses of the united Swedish no- 
bility clashed in praise of the most genial of 
kings, and Christian II. strode smiling through 
the uproarious, wine-heated crowd, embraced 
the bishops, kissed the counsellors of stale, and 
tendered the right hand oi fellowship to the 
burgomaster of Stockholm. Taen clapping his 
hands merrily, he sang a jovial song in honor 
of his stammering guests. Only the waters of 
Trollhatta flowed darkly, mysteriously, and 
bore the dead leaves which the autumn wind 
scattered upon its breast onward with rapid 
eddies into the abyss. 

-- -- 

CHAPTER II. 

Three centuries and a half have passed since 


that fa’ r and beautiful November day of the 
year 1520. 

The setting sun gilded the red roofs of the 
Naples of the North, and mirrored itself in fiery , t 
red on the quiet surface of Lake M^lar. To the C\ 
casual beholder autumnal peace rested upon 
Sweden’s capital; autumnal stillness, too, con- 
trasting strangely with the noisy uproar which 
shortly before had filled streets and markets. 

Even to-day the more central tracts of Sweden 
are for their broad expanse a thinly populated 
region, though marking a five-fold iuc -ease 
since the time of which we write. Tne great 
lakes and the rocks remain, but between mere 
now extend many miles of cultivated laud, which 
was then a desolate waste. Three immeasur- 
able expanses of water, the Lakes Malar, Hiel- 
ma and Weuer, st-etch from ease to west 
through almost tne entire breadth of the land, 
and are joined to the southward by the mighty 
length of Lake Wetter. Tnev alternate w.cn 
valleys and rocky elevations, melancholy Incests 
of pme and cheerful groves of beecii. And 
upon all, us upon tile roots oi tne capital, lies 
Noveuibci’o evening sun, not like tile precursor 
oi .December, but oi aiay, tne noruiern lnontn 
ofspnug; upon tne sdeiit, waters m rliemiar, 
as upon me noiseiess, ioug-reacuiug Waves of 
malar, wiped pia ui gently against tne broad 
steps Oi tne StoeXnoliu cusiic; upon tile 
pointed spires oi /Hinge enurenes, as upon tne 
warn Ke piuuueics o. solitary, scattered oasties, 
wmoh tower auove tne brown foliage net Wee. i 
sparkii ;g wuter-strecenes. Partner, to mo West 
upon tue sea-like suriaej ox naive whiner witu 
its numberless islands, from wnoso southern- 
most point tne broad Lfot.. -Lit nows to tne 
Kattegat. 

Tneu come tue falls of Trollhatta. Tue bout- 
man of Hake Weuer nears their warning note 
through tne soil air. Miles away, the s.iepnerd 
in tile Held nears it; lngn i.i tue air, tne bird of 
passage alters its course in iear at me noise of 
its thunder, whien increases at every onward 
step. Tnen tiie ear is deafened, and with a 
shudder the eye glances over the wiiite-neaving 
inuss, wiiicn dus.ies over the jagged shelf of 
rock down into tne awful chasm. Mare, preci- 
pitous granite shores receive them then, rising 
perpendicularly, like walls built by giant hand 
to force buck the wild, unruly waves into their 
channel. Here and there a solitary tree climbs 
to the rocky slab, its westward bending crown 
swaying in the evening wind, the messenger of 
the departing sun, which was waft ml at slow 
intervals across Lake Wener, brushing over 
the brown moss at the summit of the cataract. 


KARIN. 




and as it swept by in the train of the sinking 
sun, gently plucking with invisible hand the 
last leaves from the tree tops, and hearing them 
in dallying flight over the steep declivity to the 
brink of the precipice. Merrily they fluttered 
over the sombre ground, a moment more and 
the damp spray of the Trollliatta had engulfed 
them. 

Time and again the same play was repeated. 
Melancholy nature seemed thereby to enliven 
her solitude, unconcerned whether or no it was 
observed by human eyes. 

But a hand grasps at one of the leaves floating 
by in pursuit of the others; and two great, quiet 
eyes watch it all. 

Stony soil sparsely covered with moss and 
heather, stretched up some hundred feet from 
the brink of Trollliatta to a barren height upon 
which stood three ot those trees which rocked 
their leafless boughs towards the blue horizon. 
Now and then a ledge of rock projected like a 
broad table or an artificial giant’s seat, and from 
one of these, not far from the central tree, the 
hand was lifted in the air. 

it was as slender and the lingers as delicate and 
transparent as those of Frey a might have been, 
when she guided with silver reins her golden- 
maned steeds. The round, uplifted arm, a reflex 
of soft color, was outlined like marble against 
ihe skv. 

Was it indeed Frcva, come down to seek Odin 
sitting on the ancient Odin stone.'' The poets 
sang of her that eternal spring dwelt in her eye, 
and never-fading light upon her brow and cheek. 
And light was all proceeding from her. 

Golden light streamed from the parted hair, 
which as she thus sat fell upon the grey stones 
about her. The evening sun shed lingering rays 
upon it, so that you might not have told where 
the golden threads of the hair ended, and those 
of the sun began. Against the blue arch of sky 
it was as when deep down in the earth the miner 
catches the first gleam of a sparkling vein in the 
dull rock. His first thought is not possession, 
not the worth of the treasure, but he gazes in a 
dreamy trance of delight at the sweet, passive 
secret of nature thus disclosed to view. 

So she sat, like some sweet secret risen from 
Trollliatta’s depths to bathe her white brow for 
a moment in the glowing red of the sunset. 

Was it damp and chill below, and had she come 
to let the rosy glow of life encircle her once more, 
before the long winter held her captive in his 
icy bauds? 

No, there was another and a different light 
upon her. Though the hair might turn to liquid 
gold in tin 1 water’s depths, arm and brow and 


throat freeze to polished alabaster; there was no 
jewel of the deep from which nature’s magic 
could have formed such eyes. They belonged to 
the upper world, to the northern heaven, which 
had lain in them all its mystic light, its sadness 
and its serenity, its nameless charm of laughter 
and tears. 

She might be each of its fair inhabitants. Ge- 
fione, the goddess of chastity, the protector of 
maidenhood on earth. Hylla, the fair-haired, 
and Gna, who floats upon the sunbeam. Hlyn 
who gently kisses away the tears of misery. 
Sioena, who divinely stirs the sweetest emotions 
of the heart. And she might be Lobna in whose 
presence neither hate nor discord can exist. 
Wara whose look searches out each secret of the 
breast, and Synia, the lovely guardian of heaven. 

But poets took what was loveliest in each, and 
fashioned therefrom Freya, the fairest of Wal- 
lulla’s goddesses. Her eyes they made the 
abode of everlasting spring, for the mind of man 
could devise nothing more exquisite. Then 
came Fate and joined the grief for Odur’s death 
to the eternal spring in Freya’s eyes. 

Beautiful as were both was the girl upon the 
rock by the Trollliatta. Now she rises, and the 
shadow of her tall figure falls upon the rushing 
waters below. A long robe of simple stuff fell 
about the girlish form from the half-exposed 
neck to the ancles. Gathered in folds over the 
breast, it resembled a Grecian tunic but for the 
girdle that held it in place, which was costly and 
finely wrought with gold and silver thread. 
The dress was of delicate color, and the white 
undergarment of finest linen was gathered in 
light puffs above the elbow. 

M#M 

CHAPTER III. 

But for the solitary, fairy-like apparition of the 
girl there was far and wide no living creature to 
be seen. Still there was motion, for the wind 
had risen, bending back the boughs of the trees 
and sweeping through the low brushwood that 
stretched down to the rapids above (lie falls. 
But neither the roaring of the wind nor the 
creaking of the branches could be heard, for the 
blast of the Trollliatta swallowed up every minor 
sound. 

It drowned, too, the rustling of the thick, yel- 
low leafage in the brushwood above the falls. 
The wind blew over it in gusts, scurrying through 
the dead leaves, then all was still again except 
in one spot where the vibration of the leaves 
continued, and would not be quieted. There al- 
most seemed to be a quivering asp among the 




4 


KARIN. 


bushes, except that it appeared to change posi- 
tion constantly, and, curiously enough, to shift 
obliquely over the hill-side towards the stream. 

But it could not have been detected by the 
keenest ear, and only perchance by an eye in- 
tently fixed upon the spot. For a moment it ap- 
peared as though the young fairy of the Troll- 
hatta had done so. She turned away from the 
sun, which had just sunk in a crimson flood be- 
low the horizon, and looked backwards up the 
stream. But the fiery ball had blinded her, and 
the wind came shivering over Lake Wener, and 
swept together the brown leaves of the hillside. 
It brought something else with it, something like 
the leaf after which she had grasped. It was not 
a leaf, however, but another of Trollliatta’s love- 
ly guests, a child of the mountain solitude, as 
rarely gifted in its way as the girl. She did 
seem to have something in common with the 
beautiful butterfly with its white wings dotted 
with great, shining spots, and the comparison 
seemed apt as the rare insect, caught up some- 
where by the wind, and vainly struggling against 
it, now floated by her in the direction of the falls. 
She followed it a moment with her eye, then like 
an impulsive, fleet-footed child darted after it 
down the slope. 

Some fifty feet distant, at the place where at 
this moment the quivering asp seemed to stand, 
a head peered through the shrubbery, and gazed 
in wonder at the white form flying in pursuit ot 
the butterfly. Then the wonder in the clever 
grey eyes gave place to an alarmed expression, 
whose dictate the muscular arms seemed to obey 
for the bushes were torn apart Avith such vio- 
lence that, in spite of the roar of the falls, it might 
have been distinctly heard. 

But the girl did not hear it, or would not heed 
it. Every thought was now concentrated in the 
effort to reach her fair counterpart before the 
wind had borne it irrevocably into the fine spray 
which like a vail, enwrapped the rushing fall. 
Now and then she would reach out her hand to 
seize the giddy creature, but she may have feared 
to grasp it too roughly, for the slender fingers 
were as awkward and irresolute as the feet were 
firm and sure in gliding doAvn the steep slope of 
the hillside. Yet the danger was great; the grey 
eyes, which had advanced within twenty steps, 
saw it well — it needed but a crumbling stone, a 
misstep, a stutnble, and the girl would fall in- 
evitably into the whirl of the Avild water. 

In vain! The loud almost angry shout of 
warning which the young man uttered was 
drowned in the noise of the cataract, in danger- 
ous proximity to which the girl now stood. 
Vain, too, her effort to save her imperilled com- 


rade Avho seemed poAverless to resist the fatal 
attraction of Trollhatta. It struggled for a mo- 
ment against the fine, damp spray which encom- 
passed it, then fell heavy-Avinged upon the sur- 
face of the water just as the outstretched hand 
of the girl seizek it from the shore. But at the 
same instant, the insufficient grass-tuft upon 
which she Avas kneeling gave way, she uttered a 
faint cry, and grasped vainly Avith her other 
hand for support. A mighty Avave came on, a 
white arm seemed reaching eagerly from out 
Trollhatta to lay hold of the girl’s golden hair, 
and a mocking, exultant laugh to ring from the 
foaming deep. 

The faithless turf sank more and more. 
“Gustav!” cried the girl, “Gustav!” 

“I am here!” The man came on like a wild 
deer, giving a mad leap over the last knot of 
shrubbery; he stumbled and fell hard by the 
perilous shore to the ground, but holding him- 
self with a firm grip of his right hand in the earth 
he caught the falling girl Avith his left around 
the Avaist, and with a mighty effort dreAv her back 
from the embrace of the Trollhatta. 

It all happened with the rapidity of thought 
and the girl, supported by the helpful arm, had 
sprung lightly to her feet, and noAv looked Avith 
thankful but wondering surprise into the face of 
her benefactor. She had extended her hand, but 
now half-liesitatingly drew it back. 

The stranger in his turn looked at her in won- 
der, arising, it was plain to see from her extra- 
ordinary beauty. He might have numbered 
thirty years, and Avas tall of stature, his features 
irregular, but sharp-cut, and more expressive 
than the average SAvedish type. His dark hair 
fell in tangles over his forehead, and his clothing 
bore marks of his struggle with thorns and 
briars. He perceived the hesitation expressed 
in the half-extended hand of the girl, and a pas- 
sionate, scornful expression played abuot his 
mouth. 

“Is life so Avorthless to you that you cannot 
even offer your hand to him avIio has preserved 
it?” he questioned angrily. 

The tone was even more offensive than the 
Avords themselves. A vivid flush overspread the 
girl’s face, and she drew up her tall figure with 
maidenly pride, and an equally disdainful reply 
rose to her lips. But reflecting, doubtless, that 
hoAvever unseemly the expression, there was 
still truth in the idea conveyed, and that in very 
deed Avithout the aid of his strong arm, she had 
not noAv stood confronting him, she answered 
mildly, 

“I thought you Avere — ” 


K A R IN. 5 


Ho took the word abruptly. “I do not merely 
think that you called me, but I know it. My ears 
heard as plainly as my eyes saw that but for me 
you would have shared the fate of the butterfly 
you so rashly pursued. This you know, and you 
know further that the custom of our land entitles 
me to kiss your lips, and my demand is modest 
when I ask no other reward than this.” 

At these words, he took her small hand in his 
strong grasp and kissed it. She had listened to 
him quietly at first, but soon avoided his gaze, 
she knew not why. She could none the less re- 
fuse him her hand, for ho was right in what he 
demanded, and had he not been, there was that 
in his manner which brooked no opposition. 
She had no fear; one who had risked his life for 
liers, could surely mean no harm. But as she 
thus passively resigned her hand to him, she 
looked down timidly at the other, which even in 
the moment of peril had not relaxed its hold of 
the butterfly. Cautiously, extending its feelers, 
the insect crept from between the fingers of its 
benefactress. It appeared to realize what the 
kind hand had done for it, for it made no effort 
to escape, but remained seated as fearlessly as 
upon a white flower, now and then flapping its 
beautiful wings by way of thanks. The young 
man, too, looked at it for a moment in silence, 
then said impetuously, “Dn you not know that 
fuels that rush so madly to their own destruction 
must be let to have their way? You have seen 
that they otherwise ^lrag their rescuers with them 
into the pit. Who would have helped me, if I 
had been a tool like— like you!” he finished hast- 
ily with a short, unmelodious laugh. 

The girl felt her breath come short and quick, 
whether from the sudden damp of evening, or 
from the eccentric manner of the stranger— in 
this lonely wilderness among the rocks. 

“I have no fear of the Trollhatta,” she an- 
swered gently, “I have known it from childhood 
and it has never harmed me.” 

“Trollhatta!” Her strange, unsought compa- 
nion repeated the word in surprise. “Is that 
the Trollhatta of which you boast so much? Lot 
us sec how savage the renowned monster really 
is!” 

With a quick bound he reached the . shelve of 
rock which projected out into the spray of the 
cataract and bent recklessly over the chasm. 
It was now the girl’s turn to cry out in alarm. 
He did not hear it, and was only aware of it by 
the motion of her lips and the expression of her 
face as he turned and came back laughing and 
shaking the spray from hair and brow. 

“That revives the hare when the hounds are 
on his track; your Trollhatta is a brave fellow,” 
he said merrily. “Should you ha-ve cared if I 


had been dashed over?” indicating the direction 
carelessly. 

The girl looked at him with troubled eyes, and 
gave no answer; a doubt seemed arising in her 
mind as to the state of things existing behind the 
stranger’s broad forehead. He went on without 
stopping for an answer, 

“Pooh! You would not even have scrambled 
down in search of my bones, only the dogs might 
have scented their trace in the water, and been 
beaten by their masters for their pains.” 

He looked up with contracted brows, and sud- 
denly grasped the girl’s slender wrist again, so 
rudely as to cause pain. In this way he drew 
her in spite of her resistance a few steps up the 
stream, and said with muffled voice pointing to 
the water, 

“Would a deaf man seeing it here, as it toys 
with the flowers on its banks, as the evening sun 
reflects upon its tranquil bosom, and its waves 
flow past, so clear, so peaceful, so transparent, 
would he dream, girl, that a swift, treacherous 
current is rushing beneath, ready to entrap the 
unsuspecting who trust it, and hurl them into 
the gaping chasm which awaits them? And yet 
I tell you, your Trollhatta is but a child’s play- 
thing compared with a stream I know, which 
toys even more gently with flowers, which smiles 
and beams with sunny light, which embraces you 
kisses you and strokes your cheek— and they 
who stand on its banks are blind and deaf, they 
see not the gulf which yawns before them, they 
hear not the roaring thunder which will drown 
their death agony— ha, ha, — think of me, girl, 
when you hear of this again, it is called — ” 

He had spoken rapidly, with unnatural gaity. 
“What is your name?” he questioned, suddenly 
recollecting himself. 

“Catharine Stenbock.” 

She spoke it simply, without self-consciousness, 
though the name she pronounced was one of the 
noblest of the land. This w T as apparent by its 
effect upon the stranger, for he retreated a step 
in surprise, and said measuring the girl narrow- 
ly, but at the same time with a perceptible in- 
crease of knightly courtesy, 

“By God, the blindness of this land is conta- 
gious, or I must have recognized you at first 
sight, Rose of Trollhatta. Or rather — ” and 
there was something strangely winning in the 
smile which accompanied his words — “ I had 
fancied you otherwise, Karin, from the songs in 
praise of your beauty, for the eyes of the singers 
of our land arc dull like its swords. I thank 
you. You must know I have a strange liking 
for mad pranks, and it is at least one claim 
to immortality to have rescued the Rose of Troll- 
hatta.” 


* 

KARIN. 


Karin Stenbock colored slightly, slie had done 
the stranger an injustice in doubting his sanity, 
as his last words testified. But at the same 
time she felt she should not listen to them, and 
yet how could she do otherwise when she con- 
sidered that she owed him her life. Moreover, 
there was something in his speech, still more 
perhaps in his unexpressed thoughts, that at- 
tracted her like some mysterious affinity. From 
the changing expression of his eyes; as from her 
own, there spoke the grief of Freya for her last 
lover.. 

Thus she stood with downcast eyes, in her ir- 
resolution more beautiful than ever, A spell of 
silence enwrapped the only two living beings 
here among the desolate rocks. 

— 

CHAPTER IY. 

Twilight gathered, the wind increased and 
drove up cloud-masses from Lake Wener; but 
the young man seemed to have forgotten the end 
and aim of his strange coming, and his eyes 
gleamed with a new and dreamy light as they 
rested on Karin’s delicate, half-averted profile. 

“It is growing dark, I must go home,” she 
said at length. He did not move; she walked 
a short distance up the stream and turned back, 
wishing to ask something, but overcome by a 
shyness quite foreign to her nature. 

Suddenly he roused himself, and the old ex- 
pression returned to his face. To his voice also 
as he asked abruptly, 

“Has Stenbock — has your father gone to Stock- 
holm?” 

She shook her sunny head. “He intended to 
go, but injured his foot, and was not able to 
mount his horse. I was glad.” 

“You were glad, girl? Do you begrudge him 
Christian of Denmark’s kiss?” 

“One should not accept hospitality from one’s 
enemy. It is not noble — and not wise.” she 
added more slowly. 

The stranger approached her quickly. “You 
pass hard sentence on the nobility of this land. 
Of one’s enemy? Know you that this word 
might cost you your head? King Christian of 
Denmark is to-day king of Sweden, he is your 
master, and if he deign to honor your father’s 
house with his presence, you may play the role 
of another ‘Dove of Amsterdam’.” 

Karin lifted her head proudly; a burning ray 
as from some hidden volcanic depths, shot from 
her eyes over his face. That was her answer. 

“Biit if they should force you?” he pursued 
quickly. 

“Then would I curse you for having rescued 
me from yonder grave!” Her lips quivered as 


she pointed to the water. The stranger’s words 
had opened the flood-gates of a passion whose 
existence few would suspect in this frail girlish 
being, but which would rage and boil like the 
surging waters of Trollkatta. 

But controlling herself soon, she continued, 

PI know not who you are who think thus to inti- 
midate a girl. There are men enough in Sweden 
still who would shed their blood to avert such 
shame from the daughters of the land.” The 
question she had been endeavoring to frame 
was implied in her first words; but he whom it 
concerned seemed not to heed it. Instead he 
asked half in scorn, 

“You have good courage, Rose of Trollhatta. 
Do you know such a man? Do you know his 
name?” 

A defiant expression played about Karin’s 
mouth. “And did I know but a single one, one 
man, being such, has often freed his land from 
servitude. Yes — ” she continued with rising in- 
dignation, meeting t*he young man’s searching 
gaze undauntedly — “if I trusted to no other arm 
than to that of Gustav Erichson — ” 

She paused in affright, for her companion 
broke out into a wild, shrill laugh which re- 
echoed from the rocks around. “Do you know 
Gustav Erichson, Karin Stenbock?” he asked. 

Half indignant, half fearful, she shook her 
head and was silent. After a pause he spoke. 

“Look you, this is the idle talk of the people; 
but I will tell you what your hero is. He runs 
like a hare from land to land before the Danish 
dogs; he sees women and children maltreated 
by Christian’s troops, and stops his ear to their 
cry; he hears the wailing of his people and has 
no comfort for them but empty curses. He is a 
cow’ardly wretch, who, rather than endanger his 
precious life, crawls at night-time into holes 
and ditches; a sparrow who swears vengeance 
on the vulture that has destroyed his nest, but 
which starts at the clashing of iron, which trem- 
bles at the rustle of a dry bough in the forest.” 

He stopped, and, as if tp..seek a picture for his 
last words, looked behind him with attentive 
gaze. The wind came lashing the clouds before 
it, and getting the start of them, rattled the 
branches of the brushwood till they creaked 
again. Heavy drops of rain began to fall with a 
pattering sound on the dry foliage. The young 
man continued in listening attitude for some 
seconds, then turning to the girl, said rapidly, 

“Karin, I must pass the night in your father’s 
house. Forgive my hasty words. You seem to 
think well of Gustav Erichson; it was not ill- 
meant, my anger was aroused not at himself, 
but at his fate and at his nation.” 

“I do not know him, that is, I have never be- 


KARIN. 


hold him with my eyes,” she answered simply, 
“but I believe, nevertheless, that I judge him 
more fairly than you do.” 

“You think it, girl? I too have never seen 
him with my eyes, there was always some un- 
conquerable obstacle in the way, and this, I al- 
most fear will follow me as long as I live. But 
I have heard him — heard of him, I would say — 
often, and you may be right. Continue to up- 
hold him, Rose of Trollkatta. The hour may 
once come when he can requite you for it, and, 
upon mv soul, as I know Gustav Erichson, he 
would be capable of wresting the Swedish crown 
from Christian of Denmark, merely to lay it at 
the feet of Karin Stenbock, in gratitude for never 
doubting him, even when, in despair, he gave 
himself over to the mercy of the hounds. And 
because you have thus spoken of him, I have 
asked shelter of you for the night, for I, too, am 
pursued and hunted down by the Danish dogs, 
and whatever kindness you show me, you show 
to one wli# hates the enemies of your land no 
less than does Gustav Vasa.” 

He spoke with grace and high-born pride, and 
Karin reached him her hand impulsievly. 

“Come!” she said, “though you may not 
choose to disclose your name, if you are Den- 
mark’s: foe, be welcome to the home of Gustav 
Stenbock.” 

The stranger looked at her amazed. 

“Have these perilous times taught you no cau- 
tion, Karin?” he asked,. “Do you know who I 
am? What if I were one of Christian’s spies, to 
bring ruin upon you and yours? You know, too, 
the Danc-king’s warning against sheltering those 
under the ban of exile. What matters it, at 
best, if one more nameless fugitive perish com- 
pared with the weal or woe of your whole 
house? I thank you for your good-will, Karin, 
but I have slept many nights under the open 
sky, and do not fear another. So farewell — ” 

“You may know Gustav Erichson better than 
I, but you know Gustav Stenbock poorly if you 
fancy he would be deterred by fear from offer- 
ing shelter to a friend of Sweden,’’ Karin in- 
terposed earnestly. “As to what you said be- 
fore, I think no nation ever regained its free- 
dom by distrust, and that—” 

She paused a moment hesitatingly, and looked 
full into his face. 

“What, Karin?” 

“That if your eyes could deceive, Sweden’s 
liberty is not lost,” she concluded simply, and 
it was not hard to rfee what glad light her words 
called into her listener’s eyes. He followed 
her now, without further mention of the test to 
which lie had put her, up the same eminence 
from whence she had watched the setting sun. 


The western sky was still blue, and the-horizon 
was marked by a belt of lurid gold radiating 
like northern lights towards the zenith. A 
heavy bank of clouds was massed in the east, 
and upon it flashes of flickering bluish light 
came and want. It was a rare phenomenon for 
the season. The rocky hill-side which the 
two had climbed, though not high, was steep, 
and they stopped a moment at the summit to 
legain breath. The stranger glanced about 
him. At the south, east and west, he could 
look far out into the dusky land; only at the 
north the higher mountains of the Trollliatta 
shut out the view. 

“The storm comes from the direction of Stock- 
holm,” he muttered between his teeth, “I knew 
it beforehand, these last days have been too 
bright.” “That is the past, yonder lies Swe- 
den’s future,” said the girl confidently, point- 
ing to the golden glow in the west. He smiled 
bitterly. “But it sinks before us, and our day 
is over ere it returns.” 

Then his eye flashed angrily, and he stamped 
upon the ground. “Cursed be everybody who 
thinks thus,” he cried vehemently, “Everyone 
who does not risk all for the freedom of this 
land! Cursed be your beauty, Rose of Troll- 
hatta if you use it for aught else than as a re- 
ward for the liberator of your country!” 



CHAPTER Y. 

A prolonged peal of thunder accompanied 
these passionate words. Karin walked rapidly 
down the opposite slope, brow and cheek suf- 
fused with bright color. Her heart beat loudly 
andher.hand trembled till the butterfly, which 
was resting upon it with folded wings, extended 
its feelers uneasily. Heavy drops fell about 
them, before them in the dim light rose a thick 
cluster of trees, lindens already despoiled of 
their leaves, and high-branched elms still 
covered Avith dark foliage. Beyond them ap- 
peared the roof of an ancient, castle-like build- 
ing. 

“Is that Torpa?” inquired tlia stranger. 
Karin nodded assent. 

“And is your mother, Brita Stenbock, at home?” 

She again assented, raising her eyes Avonder- 
ingly to his. “You appear to know us, and me- 
thinks it Avere fair for me to say the same of 
you, before I commend you to my father’s pro- 
tection. ’ 

“You are right, Karin. It Avas folly in me to 
Avithliold my insignificant name so long,” he 
am wered quickly. “It is Gustav Folkung, and 
if you Avill grant me one favor more, let it be 


8 


K A R I N. 


this — not to conduct me to your parents, and to 
tell no one of our meeting. The men will by 
this time have finished their work in the court, 
lot'me slip unnoticed into a stall, and find a bed 
in the hay.” 

She repeated the name “Gustav Folkung,” 
and added nmsingly, “I have heard of you, you 
are a friend to Sweden. Strange that all of that 
name are so. No — ” as if the train of thought 
almost startled her— “No,” she repeated, but 
in a different tone, and turning to her compa- 
nion. “You must not spend the night thus. 
You are weary, and in need of a comfortable 
resting-place. We have other provision for an 
exile, and there is no one but my mother in the 
house.” 

“You are right, Rose, I am weary. The - pur- 
suers have been hard upon me these last days, 
and sleep will indeed be welcome,” murmured 
Folkung more to himself than to his guide. “I 
do not mistrust your people, Karin,” he con- 
tinued, “but a secret is safer in one hand than 
in two. You can not he girl, swear to me that 
you will on no account betray my hiding-place, 
and I will follow whither you lead me. For it 
is as you say: I am weary, very weary. To- 
morrow, . before, the day breaks,, I shall be 
gone.’’ 

“I know not what reasons you may have,” 
answered Karin, “but I am in duty bound to 
respect your request, for you have saved my 
life, and are an enemy of our enemies. I swear 
that I will betray your hiding place to no one. 
Come!” • 

They had entered the deep shadow of the 
elms, she seized his hand and drew him after 
her. The rain now fell in torrents upon the 
trees, and drowned the noise of their footsteps. 
Karin, lost in thought, proceeded in silence. 
“It is the only safe way,” she murmured at last, 
though not so low but that her companion over- 
heard and inquired its meaning. She replied 
liurridly that there was but one room in the 
house, which was never entered at night, and 
she would conduct him hither. The castle, 
which they had already seen in the distance, . 
now rose close before them. It was enshroud- 
ed in darkness except for a glimmer of light 
from the ground-floor, and from one upper 
apartment. The former issued from a room 
close to the main entrance, and the hardy faces 
of men and maids were visible within, moving 
about the flickering oil-lamp. 

Avoiding the open door, Karin drew her com- 
panion aside, apparently through a garden at the 
back ot the castle. The east wind howled more 
fiercely here, and beat the heavy drops with an- 
gry might against the solid masonry. Notwith- 


standing, their approach was detected by the 
sharp ears of a huge mastiff, which growled an- 
grily until Karin called in a low, commanding 
voice. The dog thereupon sprang with a joyous 
whine toward them, but growled again upon 
scenting the presence of a stranger. 

“Still Bjorn, it is a Swede not a Dane!” said 
the girl, and the dog gave another low whine 
and crouched contentedly at his mistress’ side. 
The latter felt along the wall and shoved back a 
bolt. They entered through a small door, Which 
she again barred from within, then led her 
charge up a flight of stairs, and through narrow 
passages till another door w r as reached. Draw- 
ing a key from her pocket, Karin unlocked it 
and threw it open. A different atmosphere 
greeted Folkung, the gloom seemed laden with 
a something that, setting November at defiance 
encircled the weary wanderer like a breath of 
flowers, — warm, yet fresh and incense-breathing 
as a summer morning. But he had scarcely 
crossed the threshold when his gtiide released 
her hold of his hand, and whispered hastily: 

“I dare not bring you light, it would betray 
you. You must be as noiseless as possible for 
my mother’s sitting-room adj fins this. She is 
extremely acute of hearing, and one of the 
serving- women might beside be present. My 
father is absent at the house of a friend, and 
will not return before the morrow. As soon as 
I can do so unnoticed, I will bring you food. 
Fasten the inner bolt, and do not open till some 
one taps on tne door and says Gustav Yasa. 
And then— yonder by the window stands a 
bench — ” 

She hesitated a moment — “no,” correcting 
herself hastily, “you are exhausted, here to the 
left is a bed, throw yourself upon it and rest; 
only — only perhaps you would draw off your 
shoes.” 

— 

CHAPTER VI. 

The last request was somewhat confused and 
disconnected, but before Falkuug could reflect 
upon its meaning, ho heard the door close. 

“Do not forget the bolt,” came again in a low- 
whisper. But instead of obeying, he flung open 
the door and peered into the dark after the girl. 
“Karin,” he cried in a muffled voice, but there 
was no answer, only the wind came whistling 
up the dark passage, for the window of the room 
stood open. The cool air brought him to his 
senses, he closed the door and fastened the bolt 
then stepped to the window, wdiicli was dis- 
tinguishable from the surrounding darkness 
by a dull, gray shimmer. Letting the rain beat 
into his face, he looked out. 


KARIN. 


9 


The ground was no longer visible, but he 
computed from the number of steps he had as- 
cended that it must lay far beneath him. He 
heard the playful yelping of the dog from below 
as it grew faint and fainter, and finally died 
away towards the front of the house, marking 
plainly the whereabouts of the girl as she re- 
traced the way they had come. 

“Gustav Vasa,” he murmured, “the Rose of 
Trollhatta says that Gustav Vasa is the watch- 
word. She should rather have said that Gus- 
tav Ericlisqn is a fool, since he has felt the hand 
of a girl in his.” 

He stepped noiselessly back from the window 
feeling his way along the walls of the room. 
They afforded solid protection against wind and 
weather. High carved clothes-presses stood in 
the corners, then more wall. No, now his hand 
struck against wood, smoothly planed like that 
of a door. A ray of light fell through a narrow 
chink, and at the same moment, the sound of a 
well-known voice greeted his listening ear. 

“Good evening, mother,” said Karin. “You 
have tarried long, Karin; the twilight must be 
falling. ’ 

The speaker’s sight must not alone be failing 
her, she must be totally blind. “It is night, 
mother,” answered the girl, “and stormv. I 
Avas at the Trollhatta, and saved the life of the 
last butterfly. You know the one with red stars 
which flutters about the Kinnakulle. He tried 
to cross the falls and fell in; so I rescued him, 
and since then he sits tamely on my hand. He 
has not thanked me in words, but I feel he 
knows what he owes me and is grateful. If it 
were in his power he would risk his life again 
for me. Come, you foolish thing, light on the 
flowers yonder.” 

Gustav Folkung heard each word. Karin’s 
graceful expression of thanks, thus lightly ad- 
dressed to the butterfl' 7 , moved him strangely, 
and ho felt, in spite of his weariness, rivetted to 
the spot. 

He heard Iioav the elder woman sighed as she 
answered, 

“You are a child, and toy with butterflies. It 
were better had you left it to its fate. My eyes 
warn mo that evil days are in store for] Sweden, 
and many shall be swept away who till now 
have escaped. Road to mo, Karin, from the 
book whose stories were your delight as a child. 
Open at the twelfth page, and read of the singer 
whose harp extolled the heroic deeds of his an- 
cestors, but was mute of those of his children’s 
children. Ho was blind, and sat by the Troll- 
hatta. So ho dashed his harp in pieces on the 
rocks and sprang into the flood.” 

The listener heard the girl move througn the 


room. He felt his way noiselessly back to the 
window, but in the darkness struck against some 
small object on a table. It rolled off and fell 
with a crash to the floor. Without stopping, he 
flung himself quickly upon the bed indicated by 
his guide. The voice of the elder woman was 
now heard in the next room, interrupting the 
reading which had already begun. 

“Is Bjorn in your room, Karin? I heard 
something fall. Let Ingeborg take a light and 
see.” 

The maid in question who had been quietly 
sitting in a corner rose and took up a candle. 
But Karin sprang up, saying quietly, 

“Stay! Bjorn is without. My window is open 
and the storm beats in; I need no light.” 

She opened the door and left it ajar while she 
walked with a firm step to the offending window 
and closed it noisily. The light from a massive 
metal lamp of artistic workmanship shone into 
the room, and Folkung could look directly into 
the face of the mother, who was seated in an 
armchair by the table, gazing fixedly into vacan- 
cy. She had the same high, finely rounded 
brow as the daughter, except that it was deeply 
furrowod and shaded by thick, almost white 
hair. But her arms, uncovered according to 
the custom of the day almost to the elbow, were 
still full and white. She must have been 
younger than she looked, and when she rose, be 
a proud and imposing figure. Folkung could 
not withdraw his eyes from her, and murmured, 
“You have grown oldBrita Stenbock. You were 
a beautiful woman when I climbed upon your 
knees in Sten Sture’s house, and pulled at the 
golden chain about your neck.” 

He was silent, and, impelled by an irresistible 
attraction, turned towards Karin. Her dress 
brushed past him, he could not restrain himself 
and stretched out his hand to hold her back. 
He whispered her name, and pressed the hem 
of her garment to his lips. Freeing herself with 
a quick, decided movement, she said in a jesting 
tone as she re-entered the sitting-room, 

“The storm will play no more such pranks. 
Bo sensible, storm, and compose yourself to 
rest.” 

Threatening playfully with her linger, she 
closed the door. The mother raised her head 
and said, 

“You are childish tonight, Karin.” 

“The storm and myself made each other’s ac- 
quaintance some time ago,” she replied lightly, 
“he is insolent and unruly, but when I lay my 
hand upon him, he becomes tame and quiet.” 

The mother shrugged her shoiilders. “You 
have been chattering with the gnomes at the 
Trollhatta again, and talk childish nonsense. 


10 


KARIN. 


Read on. The storm, however, does not appear 
to do your bidding, for I feel the wind increas- 
ing around my shoulders. I would your father 
were at home tonight, or at least Gustav — ” 

Overcome by fatigue, Folkung heard no more. 
He lay in a half slumber with stormy thoughts 
surging through his brain, till, suddenly, at the 
touch of Karin Stenbock’s hand, they subsided 
and went to rest. 



CHAPTER VII. 

The wind whistled outside, and Bjorn pro- 
tested against it at intervals in a long-drawn 
howl. In his dreams, the sleeper pressed the 
soft cushion against his cheek and repeated the 
mother’s words, “Is Bjorn in your room, Karin?” 

A shudder seized the dreamer. — “Your room, 
Karin?” he repeated, drawing a deep breath. 

Suddeuly he started up and stared about him. 
The darkness which had surrounded him had 
given place to a bright illumination. At least 
the light appeared at the first moment intense 
and dazzling; then he perceived that the moon 
which had penetrated the clouds was streaming 
into the room. But it was not the light that had 
awakened him, it was a sound, or combination 
of sounds, that fell upon his ear. A noise like 
rumbling thunder came on from the distance, 
drew nearer, continued to increase, then stopped 
abruptly. The secret guest at Torpa Castle 
listened intently. Instead of the rumbling, he 
heard outside the whinnying of horses and the 
heavy tread of men ascending the steps. 

The door of the largo apartment where sat the 
two female members of the Stenbock family flew 
open, and a man with broad shoulders and 
knightly bearing crossed the threshold The 
gray hair blown back by the storm revealed the 
man’s bare, bony forehead, and his lips worked 
violently, partly from excitement, partly from 
pain caused by his rapid walk, which gave him 
no time to support his limping left leg with his 
sword. 

His cloak fell from his left shoulder, behind 
which appeared the blonde head of a young man 
whose eyes anxiously sought Karin. 

“Father!” cried she, springing up from her 
seat. Something not unlike disagreeable sur- 
prise was conveyed in her tone, but another 
look at the new-comers changed it to real alarm. 
“What has happened to you, father?” 

“Tome?” Gustav Stenbock grasped at his 
throat as if to remove some obstacle, and at- 
tempted to speak. But he could only gasp, no 
sound came. 

“For God’s sake, Gustav, what has happened?” 


repeated Karin addressing herself to the young 
man who had flown to meet her. 

He, too, was breathless, Ins clothing was 
drenched with rain, and his high riding-boots 
were covered to the knee with a stiff crust of 
mud and clay. He might have been two years 
older than Karin; it was plain to see that the 
clouded expression of the blue eyes and open 
features just at present was not natural to them. 
And liis hands, too, trembled with excitement, 
while his knees shook with over-exertion and 
exhaustion. 

A moment’s pause during which no-one spoke 
succeeded, and was broken by the voice of the 
mistress of the house. She had risen with the 
aid of the table, and asked with a forward incli- 
nation of the head, 

“Who came with Stenbock? Is it Gustav 
Rosen?” 

“Yes, mother,” answered Karin, who had lain 
her head upon his breast, and thrown her arms 
about his neck while he kissed her brow and 
eyes with passionate vehemence. 

“You live, yes, you live,” he murmured bro- 
kenly. 

Stenbock had thrown aside his dripping outer 
garments, and now, motioning almost angrily to 
the youth, said, 

“Speak, Rosen. Tell it to them, as you did to 
me, without flinching.” 

Gustav Rosen released himself gently from 
Karin’s embrace, and advanced towards Brita 
Stenbock. 

“Be seated, aunt,” he said, leading her by 
the hand back to her chair, I bring you greeting 
from Christian of Denmark.” 

His words, spoken with peculiar emphasis, 
were followed by a silence th it seemed to till 
the room. The door through which the two 
had entered, stood open and the men who had 
followed their master up the steps, peered in 
with curious looks. But all was still as death, 
only Bjorn howled sullenly out into the night. 
Then Brita Stenbock asked in sharp accents, 

“Gustav Rosen, you desire to ally yourself 
with the house of Stenbock. Why do you delay? 
Sweden’s women have become men, since Swe- 
den’s men are like women. What message do 
you bring from Christian of Denmark? His 
hand-grasp is treason, and his greeting death.” 

“You have spoken rightly, Brita,” returned 
the youth. He took Karin’s hand and clasped 
it convulsively in his. “I rode out of Stockholm 
last evening,” lie pursued, “I met your father 
at Lake Wener, on his way to the place from 
whence I came — ” 

The white-haired woman sprang again to her 
feet. 


KARIN. 


11 


“You would have deceived us, Stenbock, you 
would have gone to Stockholm?” she questioned 
in a hard voice. 

With a muttered curse Gustav Stenbock tlung 
his sword to the ground. The young man inter- 
posed quickly, 

“I counselled him to it, the entire nobility 
had obeyed the king’s summons, and I feared 
he would suffer if he refused — ” 

“The entire nobility of Sweden is false and 
cowardly,” broke out the blind woman angrily. 

“Brita Stenbock, you are unjust and will re- 
pent ot your words,” replied the youth in a hol- 
low voice. “Those of whom you speak are deaf 
to praise or blatne. Since last evening there 
exists no longer a nobility in this land. The 
Malar is red with its blood — he who drank with 
the Danish king in Stockholm, paid for the ban- 
quet with his head. Christian of Denmark has 
beheaded Sweden’s entire nobility!” 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Who uttered that? A shrill piercing laugh 
came from one corner of the room, and the 
speaker involuntarily turned to seek it. Karin 
also glanced in that direction, her hand trem- 
bled in her lover’s hold, and a sudden pallor 
overspread her face. 

Whose cheek was not blanched as they listened 
to Gustav Rosen’s last words, Stenbock likewise 
cast a searching look at the occupants of the 
room, at the group of servants who, according 
to ancient Swedish custom, had collected in the 
dwelling-room. 

“Is there a Danish traitor among us? Who 
laughs at Sweden's downfall? ’ he asked, con- 
tracting his bushy brows ominously. 

No one answered but Karin, who said, “It 
sounded like laughter, father, but it was only 
the wind.” 

Rosen glanced towards the door leading into 
Karin’s room. “Metliinks it came from there.— 
What is wrong, Ingeborg?” addressing the maid 
who had also anxiously fixed her eyes on the 
door. 

“There was a suspicious noise within before 
you came, Sir, but the young mistress was coura- 
geous and went in.” 

The youth drew his sword and advanced a 
step towards the door, but Karin placed herseli 
quickly before it. 

“Ingeborg is a timid fool, who believes in 
ghosts,” she said, laying a detaining hand upon 
his arm, “believe me, it was the wind—” 

At this she gently drew him back. Brita Sten- 
bock, who had sunk back into her chair with 


her face buried in her hands, had heard nothing 
of this by-play. She now rose with a face pallid 
as marble, and asked with steady voice, 

“Who were beheaded, Gustav Rosen? Tell 
me the names.” 

The young man turned, and replaced his 
sword in its sheath; he was evidently accustomed 
to obey the voice of the aged woman. 

“Ask who escaped, aunt, and they are easy to 
name,” he returned, “for they are present in 
this room, your husband and — myself,” he con- 
cluded with momentary hesitation. 

Brita Stenbock’s lips worked strangely, “You 
were also in Stockholm, Rosen; how comes it 
that you did not share the fate of the Swedish 
nobles?” 

“I escaped by a fortunate chance,” replied 
the youth in a low, confused voice. He turned 
away his head to avoid a hasty, anxious look 
from Karin, so different from her wont. The 
mistress of the house repeated his last words 
under her breath. 

“By a fortunate chance. Happy are you, 
Karin, but for that Gustav Rosen’s head had 
lain with those of the brave Swedish nobles.” 

The cloud of doubt and anger disappeared 
from the girl’s eyes. She laid her trembling 
head trustingly on her lover’s breast. Brita 
Stenbock continued, 

“Is there no one left in whom Sweden can 
place her hope but Stenbock and yourself?” 

The tone in which the last words were added 
was too unmistakeable to be longer ignored. 
Stenbock, who had till now stood by in silent ab- 
straction, looked up angrily and said, 

“Metliinks, Brita, that today is not the time to 
revive an old wrong. You speak madly, woman. 
Has Gustav Rosen injured you by saving my 
life? Has he done a favor to Christian of Den- 
mark by hindering him from placing my head 
with the others?” 

“Mother!” exclaimed Karin also with proud 
displeasure. But the latter continued without 
change of voice or manner, 

“I asked you, Rosen, if no one else escaped 
the massacre?” 

The youth must have a powerful incentive for 
controlling his temper, and that was, doubtless, 
the fair girl around whom he threw his arm, for 
he replied more calmly tha i the rest had spoken, 

“I believe that Gustav Erichson is the only 
one who escaped, or rather, who did not go to 
Stockholm. The fox scented the trap — ” 

“Speak with respect of Gustav Yasa, boy!” 
thundered his aunt. Rosen was silent. But 
| her sudden wrath soon subsided. “Gustav 
Erichson,” she said slowly, “he was a child 
when lie taught me first what becomes a Swedish 


12 


KARIN. 


woman. As long as he lives, nothing is lost — all, 
perhaps, is won,” she added softly as to herself- 

She opened her eyes and fixed their sightless 
balls in the direction of the youth’s voice. 

“I would not wound you, Gustav Rosen,” she 
continued, “you have been a boy till today, but 
now the hour has come to prove whether the 
blood of your father or the Danish blood of your 
mother flows in your veins.” 

Karin looked joyfully at her lover. 

“Gustav has as true a Swedish heart, mother 
as you or I, as our father or Gustav Vasa,” she 
said. “But it is late, you should rest and reflect 
tomorrow what is to be done.” 

Stenbock shook his head. “Tomorrow may 
be too late, Christian is swift as the plague.” 
Rosen likewise assented. “I know that a de- 
cree has been issued to glean the whole land, 
wherever one of those whose name stands in the 
list furnished by the barber’s apprentice, Slag- 
hok, escaped death. Archbishop Trolle, incited 
by Slaghok, has forced the decree into execu- 
tion.” 

“God’s curse upon the traiter— ” Brita Sten- 
bock ’s passionate outcry was drowned by the 
furious yelping of Bjorn, who was heard spring-, 
ing with rapid bounds up the stairs. 

“All the temporal counsellors of the kingdom, 
two bishops, the burgomaster and the aldermen 
of Stockholm were beheaded,” pursued Rosen 
feverishly. “The gates were suddenly closed, 
and the streets occupied by Danish soldiers, 
who had landed secretly during the night. 
Whoever was present at the execution, and ut- 
tered a Avord of pity, was immediately seized 
by the executioners and brutally butchered. 
Archbishop Trolle implored the king upon his 
knees to have the papal ban against tiie priso- 
ners executed by death.” 

M*M 

CHAPTER IX. 

Sounds of angi’y altercation and the clash of 
arms rose from below, interrupting the speaker. 
Bjorn came Avith a mighty bound through the 
open door, and sprang Avith head erect and glit- 
tering eyes towards Karin. He Avas closely fol- 
lowed by one of the men, who cried, 

“Hide, master! The Danes are in pursuit— 
they are already in the house. We can not hold 
them back.” 

Stenbock erected his powerful frame, rested 
his hand on his sword hilt, and answered in a 
firm, clear voice, 

“Why should I fi? from my own house? I am 
conscious of no crime.” 

At the same instant, the door, Avhich the man 


had closed in his fright, Avas thrown open, and a 
Danish officer entered Avitli drawn sword, tol- 
loAved by a troop of soldiers armed Avith halberds. 
The interval betAveen the first announcement of 
their coming and their actual appearance had 
been so short, that, save the master of the house, 
none of the occupants of the room had regained 
their composure from the unexpected shock. 
Brita Scenbock's lifeless eyes glowed with su- 
pernatural light as she turned them full of dead- 
ly hatred toAvard the door; Karin’s heart beat 
audibly, and she eyed the door leading into her 
room with feverish suspense, whilst Gustav Ro- 
sen stepped hastily into the sliadoAv of the win- 
dow and looked out with Hushed face into the 
night. Ingeborg, the maid, sat moaning in a 
corner, her face covered Avith her hands. Only 
Bjorn kept his glittering eyes fixed upon the in- 
truders, and, occasionally, snuffed the air criti- 
cally through the crack at the threshold. 

The Danish captain, after sending a searching 
glance through the room, advanced upon Sten- 
bock, standing silent and erect, and asked short- 

“Gustav Stenbock, I believe?” 

Stenbock assented without change of position. 

“His Majesty, King Christian II. of Sweden, 
makes knoAvn to you his regret that you tailed to 
present yourself, in response to his invitation, ar 
his residence city of Stockholm. Bat he will 
overlook the insult thus personally offered him, 
as Avelilas your refusal to comply Avith tae Avish 
of your sovereign, and is pleased to assign you 
no heavier punishment than to forbid you on 
pain of death to leave your own territory, until 
he himself grant the permission. On pain ot 
death, Gustav Stenbock. My errand is per- 
formed.” 

Stenbock’s chest heaved convulsively. 

“No one has a right to hold a SAvedish noble- 
man imprisoned, unless authorized by the coun- 
cil of state,” he ansAvered in a steady voice. 

The captain turned away indifferently, and 
directed his attention to. the group of servants, 
rom Avhose midst an angry murmur had greeted 
his last words. 

“It is the will of His Majesty that the slightest 
opposition to his Avishes be punished with in- 
stant death. Load him who murmured with 
chains, and lead him to Stockholm!” he com- 
manded. 

The soldiers seized the luckless offender, 
whom none of his comrades ventured to aid. 
Stenbock tightened his grasp of his sword. The 
officer perceiving it, continued, 

“His Majesty will rejoice, Grstav Stenbock, 
to find in you a faithful and obedient servant. 


KAR 

He is likewise assured that you will refuse 
shelter to all traitorous fugitives upon whose 
heads a price is fixed, and who scour the land 
stirring up rebellion. But my directions are im- 
plicit to search every house in this vicinity, and 
I regret, even at this late hour, to subject you 
to this inconvenience.” Then turning to his 
soldiers, “Begin with the nearest room, with 
that one.” 

But Stenbock’s power of endurance was ex- 
hausted. Disregarding his injured limb, he ad- 
vanced in front of the approaching mercenaries, 
and threw himself with drawn sword between 
them and the door. 

“Tell Christian of Denmark,” he cried, “that 
he may well repent not being able to add my 
head to those of the remaining Swedish nobility! 
He was master in his castle, I am in mine. I 
bid him as a guest to Torpa, only regretting that 
he does not now stand here in lieu of his menial 
that'I might requite his Stockholm hospitality.” 

The words were spoken with bitter irony, and 
accompanied by so sounding a swing of his 
broad blade through the air that the nearest 
soldiers retreated in alarm, and gazed irreso- 
lutely on the herculean form of the old man. 
Dark veins swelled up on the forehead of the 
Danish officer, and he frowned menacingly. 
Beckoning to the halberdiers behind him, who 
lowered their arms, he said, 

“Gustav Stenbock, if I were to enforce my 
authority, your life is forfeited. In the name 
of King Christian of Sweden, make room!” 

The halberdiers advanced with unbroken 
front, but Stenbock did not stir. He fixed his 
eyes unflinchingly on the fast approaching blades 
then threw his arm with a look of proud satis- 
faction around the neck of his daughter, who 
had flown towards him and placed herself fear- 
lessly at his side, crying, “I will stand by you, 
my father!” 

But the deadly steels did not halt. They were 
inured to blood, and it was, doubtless, not the 
first time they had been pointed at the breast of 
a defenceless girl during the savage struggle 
for mastery waged by the Dane-king against 
Sweden. Unmoved by her beauty and helpless- 
ness, they advanced; not a lash quivered on 
their leader’s cold eye; the seconds may be 
counted ere the flashing spears must reach the 
door, and that which stands between it and them 
be dashed to earth. 



CHAPTER X. 

But there was yet another and till now silent 
spectator of the scene. Not the mistress of the 


N. 13 

house, she continued passively seated at her 
table, as if transported in spirit to some far-off 
region of thought. But he who had -watched 
the progress of affairs with rising disquietude 
was Gustav Rosen. His confusion at the en- 
trance of the Danes had been unmistakable, as 
was his attempt to withdraw attention from him- 
self. He had listened in silence but with flushed 
face to the dialogue between Stenbock and the 
officer, then his whole frame shook with emotion 
as he perceived Karin’s rapid advance to her fa- 
ther’s side, He knew the character of the men 
too well to hope that they would desist from 
their purpose — the death-bringing halberds 
measured oft the narrow interval of space yet 
remaining, step by step, they were now but a 
few feet removed from the breast of the fearless, 
immovable girl. 

“Halt!” cried Gustav Rosen and threw himself 
between the latter and the soldiers, who stopped, 
soartled at the sudden apparition. The captain 
stepped forward, and asked gruffly, 

“What is the meaning of this? Who are you?” 

The youth gave his name, adding a few words 
of Danish in an undertone, upon which the offi- 
cer hastily lowered his arms. Withdrawing his 
head-covering, and giving his soldiers a rapid 
sign to shoulder their halberds and retreat, he 
said respectfully, 

“I ask your pardon, I was not aware of your 
presence. I pray you to entreat His Majesty in 
my behalf—” 

Rosen interrupted him hastily, “The young 
lady is my affianced wife, and the room in ques- 
tion her sleeping apartment. You will readily 
see this forced her father out of his control; my 
word of honor need scarce be given that no one 
is concealed in the room.” 

The captain’s face assumed an embarrassed 
expression. “Pardon me, Sir,” he stammered, 
“but my orders — ’’ 

Gustav- Rosen’s brow contracted, and he 
clenched his sword. But quickly recovering 
himself, he returned, 

“Yoii are right, your demand must be com- 
plied with. Still you will admit that I have a 
claim in this matter, and this I shall enforce re- 
gardless of consequences.. You will be content 
if in this room I take upon myself the execution 
of the order.” 

The young man spoke with unaccustomed en- 
ergy, and in so commanding a tone, that theoffi- 
cer, by an inclination of the head, signified his 
approval. Stepping back a few paces, he gave 
instructions to his men to search the remaining 
rooms of the castle. His demeanor showed that 
he feared having gone too far in his opposition 
to the young nobleman, and he endeavored to 


KARIN. 


14 

repair bis error by a studious disregard of all 
that passed during the subsequent examination 
of Karin’s room. Stenbock seemed conscious of 
the danger to which he had thus recklessly ex- 
posed himself and his loved ones, for he now 
withdrew silently to one side, leaving the door 
free for Rosen to lift the latch. 

“Forgive me, Karin,” said the latter, turning 
back once more with a smile, “you know—” 

But his eyes sought her vainly. Karin no 
longer stood by his side, was indeed no longer 
present in the room. In the contusion caused 
by Rosen’s sudden appearance among the Da- 
nish soldiers, she had, unnoticed by all, gamed 
the door leading into the corridor, and slipped 
out into the dark. Turning to the right, she has- 
tened breathlessly through a number of obscure 
passage-ways, till she arrived at the door through 
which she had conducted Gustav Folkung into 
her room. Forgetting that he had barred it 
at her direction, she shook it violently; then, re- 
collecting, rapped and softly pronounced the 
watchword, “Gustav Vasa!” 

The door instantly flew open, and the fugitive 
stood before her, clearly outlined in the moon- 
light which now shone brightly into the room. 

“You gave me your word, and Gustav Vasa 
awaited youreoming, Karin,” he whispered. 

“Quick! Come! she said, not heeding his 
words. She stepped hastily to the window, the 
garden below glittered with halberds. Karin 
uttered a low cry of terror, Folkung had followed 
and thrown his arm about her. 

“If they had not been there, you would not 
have found me still here,” he whispered again, 
bending so close that his lips brushed her ear. 

She seized his hand and dragged him after 
her out into the dark corridor, just as the door 
on the opposite side of the room was opened and 
Bjorn bounded in. Gustav Rosen stood upon 
the threshold, and, as if to avoid all suspicion 
of neglecting the proper forms, called for alight 
which Ingeborg, still trembling, handed him. 

“Do not go alone, Sir, take some of the men 
with you, there is danger,” she implored timidly: 

But a happy smile rested on the youth’s face- 
“You are right, it is dangerous here, Ingeborg,” 
he answered with sparkling eyes. 

No one in the next room appeared to notice 
his movements. The maid drew back fearfully^ 
the heavy tread of the Danish hirelings died 
away in the corridors, as, in obedience to the 
command of their leader, and provided by the 
servants of the house with torches, they dis- 
persed through the castle. Gustav Rosen moved 
forward, shielding the flickering flame with his 
hand, and looked cautiously about him. But it 
was plain to see that his zeal did not spring from 


a sense of assumed duty, but from a certain, se- 
cret, palpitating emotion of the heart. 

Suddenly he stopped spell-bound. His eye 
rested upon Bjorn, who, half-erected by the 
side of Karin’s bed, was eagerly scenting it. 
The silken cushions hung down half-way to the 
floor, the bed was tumbled and disordered as 
from a heayy pressure, and the linen at the foot, 
usually so spotless, was soiled with mud and 
damp clay. 

The youth wiped the cold drops from his brow. 
For a moment everything swam before him, his 
heart ceased to beat, and he stared vacantly as 
one bereft of reason. What Ingeborg had said, 
the shrill laughter that he had himself heard, 
Karin’s words, “Believe me, it is the wind,” her 
arm gently holding him back, her mysterious 
disappearance — all crowded with feverish haste 
upon his mind. Then his eyes sank, and he 
mechanically approached the light to the floor. 

Damp imprints of heavy nailed boots crossed 
and re-crossed each other; they came from the 
further door and returned thither. Bjorn, snuff- 
ing them, now sprang eagerly towards the door. 
The fugitives in their haste had not closed it 
firmly. It flew open, and the dog darted swiftly 
down the passage. Gustav Rosen followed mad- 
ly with drawn sword in hand. His hair fell 
about his hot face and expressionless eyes; he 
was alone in the long passage-way, but overhead 
and about him he heard the’ steps of the Danes, 
and maddened and confused by nameless, con- 
flicting thoughts, he gasped, “This way! This 
way!” 



CHARTER XI. 

Karin had drawn her charge down the same 
steps he had before ascended; bin instead of 
opening the side door leading into the garden, 
she felt along the wall in search of another. 

“You must not go into the garden, the whole 
house is surrounded,” she whispered, “descend 
twelve steps from here, count them, then turn 
to the left, and a subterranean passage, high e- 
nougli to enable you to walk upright in it, leads 
directly to the Trollhatta, near the spot where 
you found me to-day. The opening is concealed 
by bushes and a stone which you must roll 
aside. Hasten, I hear them coming! The God 
of Sweden be with you!” 

The heavy hinges of the door grated in the 
darkness as the girl tore it open with her strong 
arm. “Hasten!” she repeated breathlessly, 
anxiously drawing away her hand from the 
grasp of her unseen companion. 

“You know not what you ask, Karin,” he said 


KARIN. 


15 


passionately. “Wliat matters it to me or to 
Sweden if they find me here and lay me dead at 
your feet? What would it matter to you? Then 
might I kiss your feet in death—” 

A ray of light shot down the stairs. “You are 
mad,” gasped Karin and sought with both her 
trembling hands to force him through the res- 
cuing door. But her strength was but a child’s 
compared with his. Ho clasped her in his arms 
and murmured, 

“Give me a kiss, Karin, and I will save myself 
and save Sweden. I will not demand a second 
till my promise is fulfilled. But if you deny it 
to me, I remain and deliver myself up to the 
Danes, and you are my murderer!” 

The girl struggled desperately, then suddenly 
cried, “Bjorn! Help, Bjorn!” The dog ap- 
peared wagging his bushy tail, but it was too 
late, even had he known what he was to avert, 
for the hunted oppressor had reached the lips 
of Bjorn’s mistress, and pressed his own with 
fiery vehemence upon them. With a cry of min- 
gled anger and fear, Karin tore herself from his 
embrace, light flashed upon them, and Rosen 
stood looking at them from the upper step of the 
short staircase. 

“Thank God!” cried Kirin, “it is my be- 
trothed.” A double sense of joy was expressed 
in the words, both for herself and for her charge, 
against whom she was forced to seek defence. 
But the phrase had a far different effect upon 
the latter. For a moment he staggered back a- 
gainst the wall, then sprang with tiger-like fierce- 
ness upon her, and seizing her by the shoulder, 
cried, 

“You arc betrothed to another, Karin Sten- 
boclt?” 

His words were accompanied by the same 
shrill, piercing laugh, which had before inter- 
rupted Rosen's narration. At the sound of his 
voice, the latter had sprung down the stairs 
pale as death, the light of the candle which he 
held in his trembling hand fell full in Folkung’s 
face . 

“Gustav—” cried the youth. He had lifted 
his sword irresolutely as if to dash it upon Folk- 
ung’s head, but Karin arrested his arm, and be- 
fore he could finish his exclamation, the hand of 
the fugitive was laid quick as thought upon his 
lips. 

“You arc of the dead, Gustav Rosen, if you 
utter my name,” he said so imperatively that 
the youth shrank from the gaze of his Naming 
eyes. “You have brought me good tidings, the 
reaper must first have come with bloody scythe 
to root out the weeds, before the seed of the fu- 
ture could be sown. Forget not what GustaA 


Folkung has told you! Farewell Rose of Troll- 
hatta, I will keep my word.” 

Rosen looked up in amazement, the speaker 
had vanished, only the grating of the iron- 
mounted door as it swung back into place be- 
trayed the road he had taken. Loud steps were 
heard approaching through the passage; Karin 
took the light from the trembling hand of her 
lover, who, fixing his glazed blue eyes upon her, 
leaned against the wall for support. A single 
tear rolled slowly from beneath his lashes oyer 
his cheek. 

“It was well that you came, my Gustav,” she 
said gratefully. He looked at her with dis- 
torted features, and repeated, “It was well — oh, 
Karin, had I never come, had I never come!” 

She did not understand him, and took his 
hand in hers. The Danish captain followed by 
his men appeared at the head of the steps. 
“You called, Sir?” he asked civilly. 

“It was nothing. Bjorn scented a wolf prowl- 
ing around the house,” answered the youth 
pointing to the dog which snarled again at sight 
of the soldiers. 

“I have also discovered nothing,” rejoined the 
officer. He was about leaving when he turned 
and added with a courteous inclination, 

“I beg you to intercede with the lady in my 
behalf. I would assuredly not have presumed 
to suspect anything concerning the room of your 
betrothed. But you know, Sir, duty — ” 

“I know r , and I should not have prevented you 
from exercising your duty in person,” inter- 
rupted the young man bitterly, “pardon me, 
captain, I give you my word, if the case should 
be repeated, to act differently. But, on the 
other hand, you might have been content to 
spare me this task, Did I not give you my word 
of honor that no one was concealed in the room 
of my betrothed?” 

Gustav Rosen laughed aloud at these words. 
The officer regarded him wonderingly, then 
withdrew with a parting salute. Karin walked 
silently by her lover’s side through the corri- 
dor. From time to time she cast a questioning 
glance at his face, as though expecting him to 
speak. 

“You are strange to-night, Gustav,” she said 
at length. 

“Strange?” he repeated standing still. “Not 
I, the world is strange. Give me your hand.” 

The girl did as she was bid; he pressed the 
little hand in his, and looked down at it till 
the tears started to his eyes. 

“Two days ago I saw how King Christian of- 
fered his hand to his guests,” he continued 
slowly, “and his hand was as quiet and cool as 


16 KARIN. 


this one. And then he embraced and kissed 
them — ” The youth threw his arms passionate- 
ly around the girl’s ncclc and kissed the lip3 she 
so willingly proffered. — “No, not the world, the 
heart is strange,” he added softly, “for it will 
not believe what the eyes see and the ears hear; 
it believes only what it hopes.” 

And again he encircled Karin’s golden hair 
with his arm, and held her as he walked, com 
vulsively to his breast. 

-M »M 

CHAPTER XII. 

And now the land lies dead and silent from the 
Baltic up to the eternally barren slopes of the 
North. As far as the eye ranges from the sum- 
mit of the Kmnakulle, the land is enveloped in a 
snowy shroud, and the ice holds the restless 
rushing mountain streams fast in its frigid em- 
brace. Mayhap there is a hidden streamlet mur- 
muring and gurgling in the depths, but no one 
sees, no one hears. Winter reigns, and a Swe- 
dish winter is long. Many still living will not 
survive the returning Spring. 

The land lies in bondage, — all save the Troll- 
hatta. That bows to no foreign yoke, be it that 
of winter or Christian of Denmark. It dashes 
unceasingly into the depths, as if to rouse tor- 
pid nature with its thundering call. The icicles, 
which gather like spears on its sides and strive 
to span it with crystal arch, are shattered un- 
sparingly and borne away on its breast. 

Throughout the whole broad land there is but 
one man who may be likened to the Trollhatta. 
His name is Gustav Erichson; from the bundle 
of twigs on his coat of arms, called in Swedish 
Vase, the people have named him Gustav Vasa. 
He is the son of a Swedish imperial counsellor, 
and grandnephew of Sten Sture the Elder, the 
Regent. 

When Christian of Denmark promised to ne- 
gotiate for peace with Stei Sture at Stockholm 
he demanded as security for his safety in that 
city, the persons of six Swedish generals of no- 
ble birth, among them Gustav Vasa. The Re- 
gent complied in good faith, but the hostages 
once in possession of the Danish king, the latter 
refused to come to Stockholm, and Gustav Vasa 
was his prisoner in Denmark. 

A year was thus passed by Vasa in the strong- 
hold of Kallo in northern Jutland. He heard 
daily of extensive preparations which were be- 
ing made throughout Denmark to overthrow 
Sweden. No one in Jutland doubted the imme- 
diata execution of the plan. Sweden stood, by 
reason of the disagreements with the rebellious 
Archbishop, under papal ban, and Christian’s 


troops threw dice at their carousals for Swedish 
lands and maidens. 

A chronicle narrates, “that Gustav Erichson 
was by the like outrages transported to such an 
excess of rage and fear that he could neither 
enjoy food nor drink, nad ho been better cared 
for in this respect than was the case. Therefore 
his sleep was neither quiet nor refreshing, and 
he had no thought but to find an occasion to es- 
cape from his unjust confinement.” 

The occasion was soon found. He escaped in 
the disguise of a peasant, and, in a few days, by 
using great care and watchfulness, he was able 
to reach the sea-coast on foot. 

In May of the year 1520, Gustav Erichson ar- 
rived by a Liibeck ship in Calmar, the only Swe- 
dish city, beside Stockholm, which still resisted 
the Danes. Stockholm was already surrounded 
by land and by sea, so that, unable to enter the 
city, Erichson wandered in disguise through the 
adjacent districts of Smaland and Sudermann- 
land. 

Then Stockholm fell, and Sweden was at the 
mercy of the Danes. But Christian assumed a 
conciliatory mien, not as conqueror, but as pro- 
tector of the conquered laud, and convoked the 
nobles of the Empire to his coronation at the 
capital. 

And now Winter had spread a mantle of snow 
over the blood which had flown into the Malar. 

But the Trollhatta still raged in its depths, and 
so long as no icy yoke was forced upon that, win- 
ter was not victorious. So long as Gustav Vasa 
found a faithful Swedish heart to bid defiance to 
danger and shelter him in a rocky covert of the 
North, Sweden was not overthrown, and sleep 
was banished from the royal couch of the Folk- 
ungs upon which Christian nightly stretched 
himself. 

Wherever Gustav Vasa’s footsteps passed, they 
left behind an ever widening trail. Winter and 
Christian of Denmark still ruled with iron sway 
ver Svcdca, bit, as the warm sun which sucks 
at the ice and destroys in an hour the work of a 
long and bitter night, so were the hasty footprints 
of Gustav Erichson through the land never more 
to be effaced by Danish spies. Whispered words 
passed like secret droppings from mouth to 
mouth, and angry, menacing looks followed the 
departing soldiers. Many a rusty blade gleamed 
again at dead of night in the light of a lonely oil- 
lamp as its owner carefully polished and tested 
its steel. The seed of the Stockholm massacre 
strewn broadcast by the tireless sower, Gustav 
Erichson, began to sprout. Spring had not yet 
come in Sweden, but a breeze blew through the 
mountains heralding its approach. 


KARIN. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Torpa Castle was buried in silence and snow. 
The frozen mirror of Lake Wener stretched its 
measureless expanse of white to the north. 
S weden of the 16th century possessed, beside 
its water-courses, few other streets of communi- 
cation, and those few were now so obstructed by 
snow that ahorse could scarcely venture with 
safety upon them. But even had the roads to 
and from Torpa been free, no one would have 
made use of them. Its inmates lay under the 
ban of the Danish ruler and this fact precluded 
visitors. No footsteps led towards or away from 
Gustav Stenbock’s homo, save, occasionally, those 
of Danish soldiers, who appeared suddenly, ge- 
nerally at night time, and after a vain search 
through the castle, left as they had come. 

But one thing appeared altered. The master 
of the house and his blind wife, weary of fruit- 
1 >ss contention, resigned themselves to the Da- 
n ah usurpation, and the king’s spies reported 
each time with astonishment of a more friendly 
reception than the last. This change of senti- 
ment in one of Denmark’s deadliest opponents, 
did not remain unnoticed at Stockholm. The 
reputation of Gustav Stenbock was great in the 
laud, and his name was in itself an important 
support to a throne which had been won by the 
sword. The kin j; took care, accordingly, that 
the news of it should be spread wherever his 
troops penetrated, and learned with satisfaction 
that suppressed imprecations were invoked upon 
the traitor throughout the southern and central 
provinces. He knew that every curse bound 
Stenbock closer to him, and helped to sever his 
connection with the party of his oppressed 
c mntrymen. His suspicions were in the mean 
time completely allayed by the relations of Gus- 
tav Rosen to the Stenbock family. 

Gascav Rosen was the son of a brother of Brita 
Stenbock and of a Danish gentlewoman, who 
brought her husband extensive lands in Den- 
mark. Hts father died early, and his mother 
returned with her boy to her own country. But 
the child had not yet reached his eighth year, 
when she also died, and, having no relations to 
c^re for him in Denmark, he returned to the 
home of his aunt, Brita Stenbock. 

Gustav Rosen had loved his mother tenderly. 
She seemed to him the embodiment ot all that 
was beautiful, a being ol different mould from 
those who now surrounded him. And like a 
golden setting to the picture was the home of 
his childhood where they had lived together. 
Oiten he would fancy the softer airs of Zealand 
on his cheek, and the sweet voice ot his mother 
would ring in his ears as she lulled him to re ;t 


17 

with marvellous songs of the brave Waldemar 
and the lovely Dagmar. The green beech-trees 
swayed in the sun-light, —and Gerda Rosen 
kissed him and smiled with those beautiful lips 
so strangely, so mysteriously. — 

A timid shudder shook the boy as he was 
roused from his happy dreams by the cold blast 
blowing through the mournful firs by the Troll- 
hatta. The wind came up bleak and lragrantless 
from Lake Wener, like a message from the eter- 
nal snows of the North; the Trollhatta fell with 
a deafening roar, till the boy’s heart grew faint 
with fear. He ran timidly away from these 
strange, wild scenes, and was met at home not 
by his gentle mother, but by the stern looks of 
his aunt who could never forgive her brother for 
having brought home a Danish bride. Brita 
Stenbock’s voice was at no time soft or melo- 
dious, and with her nephew it sounded even 
harsher and colder than with others. Shy and 
lonely, the boy would creep to his dark room in 
the great, gloomy, sunless building, and every 
sad and dark and'cheerless dream was Sweden, 
and every warm, smiling, beckoning image was 
Denmark. 

One thing only was lacking in Denmark — the 
little girl with the sunny hair, who often crept 
into his room at night, seated herself on the 
edge of his bed, and wiped the tears from his 
lashes with her little white hand. “Don’t cry, 
Gustav,” she would say, “when I am grown, I 
will go with you to Denmark. ’’ 

Then his eye brightened, sleep was banished, 
and he related over and over again what he had 
kept back through the day. And when, lost in 
the recollection of the past, he looked at Karin, 
her sweet child’s face seemed to him to grow 
more beautiful and expressive till it became the 
sad and loving countenance of his mother. 
Smiling through his tears, the boy flung his 
arms around her neck and buried his head upon 
her breast, as he had so often on that of Gerda 
Rosen, and Karin grew sad, too, and entreated 
in a broken voice, “Do not cry, Gustav, you 
know I am to be your wife, and I will be your 
mother, too, and we will go together to Den- 
mark.” 

Many time in the morning Brita Stenbock 
found the children thus, sleeping cheek on 
cheek. Then heavy sentence was passed on 
Karin for having been disobedient again and 
condoled with her stubborn Danish cousin, who 
deserved a much greater punishment than being 
forced to sleep alone. Stenbock was also ap- 
pealed to to chastise Gustav for having allowed 
himself to be condoled with, but the times filled 
him with mightier thoughts, and he was wont to 
content himself with saying, “Lot the children 


18 KARIN. 


have their way, Brita, till their time conies.” 

It .was perhaps not distasteful to him to per- 
ceive the growing affection between his daughter 
and her well endowed cousin. Stenbock’s name 
had a better ring than the moneyed value 
of his estates, for they, like the other districts 
of central Sweden, had suffered great loss during 
the almost incessant wars of the past century. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

There was something akin in the two children 
which at times seemed to efface their difference 
in sex. It was a dreamy, thoughtful bent, which 
lifted them out of the thoughts and ideas of their 
surroundings, and contrasted as sharply with 
them as did their slender, delicate figures with 
the barren fastnesses of the Trollhatta. Their 
natures differed in but one respect, and this was 
imperceptibly increasing. The times were long 
past since Karin with childish zeal comforted 
her weeping cousin, promising to go with him to 
Denmark when she should be a woman and be- 
come his wife. Like the flower which silently 
adopts the peculiarity of the soil from which it 
springs, Karin was the true child of her land. 
Her eye flashed when she spoke of Sweden’s 
victorious struggles against Denmark; she hated 
the latter with childish fervor, but Gustav shook 
his head smilingly, and declared that men were 
men either side of the Sound, and should instead 
of hating and fighting against each other, love 
one another as he loved Karin. Then the girl 
clenched her small fist angrily and said that 
Swedes and Danes never, never could be friends 
but were enemies from the beginning. Her 
playmate looked strangely sad at this till she 
again threw her arm around his neck and drew 
him close, while he told her again of the beau- 
tiful Dagmar and of King Waldemar’s grief at 
her death, till tears started to the child’s eyes 
and she little heeded that she for whom she 
wept was a Danish queen. Thus the children 
lived and went their ways. 

Years passed; from the boy a youth had grown, 
from Karin a stately maiden. Yet their relations 
were strangely unaltered. No estrangement 
had arisen on her side, no maidenly reserve. 
Hand in hand they went ever, not regarding 
each other as brother and sister, for Karin still 
said “When I become your wife, Gustav,” only 
dropping “When I am grown,” for she was 
grown now. But their mutual confidence was 
unchanged' Neither could think now of life 
without the other. The playmates had merged 
into lovers unknown to themselves. 

It was the old love, clad in the fresh robes of 


spring, which was invisibly turning its garlands 
about them, and whose breath they inhaled with 
shining eyes, unknowing whence it came. 

Suddenly conviction flashed upon them. 
Gustav Rosen had attained his eighteenth yen* 
and with it his majority. It was necessary for 
him to cross to Zealand in order to receive his 
lands in person. It was their first parting, and 
the thought of it rent asunder the dreamy vail 
which had enwrapped them. He felt he could 
not go without the right to return, and K iriu 
wept. 

All the members of the house of Stenbock 
thought they knew Gustav Rosen perfectly, but 
none knew him well save perhaps one, and that 
one was Brita Stenbock, who withheld her con- 
sent when Gust iv openly sued for Karin’s hand. 
Yet she was forced to yield, for Stenbock still 
persevered in his intention to “let the children 
have their way.” Brita then endeavored to 
prevent Gustav’s journey to Denmark, but her 
husband again asserted his will, declaring it not 
only advisable but necessary for both, who knew 
no life apart, to experience separation. It 
should be a short one, and the pain of it was 1 >st 
sight of in the joy of the children at the father’s 
consent. 

The betrothal rites were solemnized according 
toanc'e it Swedish custom The nobles of the laud 
assembled at Torpa Castle; the drinking-bowl 
passed from hand to hand through the night, 
and many a fiery toast was drunk of love for 
Sweden and of bate for Denmark . Gustav Rosen 
was giddy with love and wine; ho knew not what 
he had spoken on the morrow, but recalled how 
each had grasped his hand, how Karin’s fxc * 
had beamed with joy, and even Brit i Stenbock’s 
cold features had smiled upon him. 

Hand in hand, as so often before, the lovers 
went next morning to the Trollhatta. They re- 
tarded their steps as they drew nearer the thun- 
dering catarect. Behind them came an atten- 
dant, leading Rosen’s horse. 

“We are taking leave of our youth, Gust tv,” 
said the girl, struggling with her tears. 

He smiled, “We arc taking leave of our folly, 
we were foolish children — ” 

“But happy children,” she added softly. Gus- 
tav looked musingly about him. “It is all as it 
was when life began for us, and my heart throbs 
as when first you led me hither. Many a year 
we have sat together here, Iv irin, not knowing 
our hearts. Each thought to read the other’s 
heart like an open book, yet this secret lay hid- 
den in each and gave no sign. Is it the list, 
Karin?” 

She nodded mutely with tearful eyes. He 


KARIN. 


19 


folded her passionately in his arms and kissed 
her lips. 

“The Trollhatta shall be the third in our bond, 
he is our oldest triend. Let us meet here first 
when I return, Karin. Promise me this. I will 
send word of my coming.” 

He swung himself upon his horse, and Karin 
reached him her hand in farewell. “Come when 
you will,’ she said, “I will await you at the 
Trollhatta. No, do not come when you will, 
come, when you feel that my heart can wait no 
longer. Think that it counts the drops of Troll- 
hatta, and each is an eternity for Karin.” 



CHAPTER XY. 

By a singular coincidence, the same ship, 
which carried Rosen from Goteborg to Copen- 
hagen, also bore Gustav Ericlison to Denmark, 
as hostage for the safety of the Danish king in 
Stockholm. Gustav Ericlison was ten years 
older than Rosen; his earnest, manly face with 
clear-cut features, contrasted with Rosen’s 
dreamy countenance as a strong tree which has 
resisted the storm with the slender blossoming 
plant. Their passage was impeded by strong 
winds and storms. Rosen beheld with astonish- 
ment iiow in the moment of dangi r Gus.av Erich- 
son sprang like a practised seaman to the yaids 
of the imperilled ship, and more than once calm- 
ly risked his life for the general safety. Sympa- 
thy and dislike alternated in his feeling for the 
commanding individuality of the young man, 
whose keen eye rested on him searchingly when 
the talk was of the great questions then agitating 
the northern world. It would li ve been impos- 
sible to speak with him of his newly won love ol 
K trin. The roaring waters of Trollhatta would 
have had more sympathy than the piercing eyes 
and cutting tones of Gustav Vasa. 

The latter, however, was in one respect as 
greatly dejeived as the unsuspecting Rosen. 
He, too, counted on a speedy return to Sweden, 
so soon as the negotiations for peace should be 
concluded in Stockholm. 

Of the latter Rosen knew but little. What 
had it or the hereditary strife between Sweden 
and Denmark to do with his love? His first in- 
sight came when as they landed on Danish soil, 
his companion was met by soldiers, arrested and 
led away amid the approving shouts ot the 
crowd. He was informed that his chance asso- 
ciate was the most dangerous rebel in Sweden, 
and that it was unwise clemency on the part of 
the king to bring him as a prisoner to Jutland, 
instead of depriving him at once of his head. 
It was the talk of the multitude wherever Rosea 


went. All spoke , too, of the impending war, 
which should realize the intention of the Calma- 
ric Union. Rosen found himself for the first 
time in his life in the midst of a great political 
agitation. 

No one here doubted but that he was body 
and soul a Dane, just as across the Sound he 
passed for an unquestionable Swede. Moreover, 
he found himself of importance, and looked up 
to as a rich and high-born man, whose favor 
was eagerly sought. 

With a flush of pride — such vanity was pardon- 
able at eighteen — he acknowledged that Den- 
mark was his home. 

But though this feeling wooed him like a play- 
ful fancy, it did not for an instant cause him to 
swerve. Each hour Karin was present to him; 
her image lent a happy charm to all he saw; 
from the depths of every goblet which he emp- 
tied, as from a mi . ror, her sweet face, framed in 
by lonely cliffs of the Trollhatta, smiled up at 
him. From Copenhagen he hastened to his es- 
tates in the interior of Zealand. There was 
much to inspect, much to order; dishonest ser- 
vants had for years played the master, and wil- 
fully ignored the day of settlement. Notwith- 
standing his imaginative nature and his youth- 
fulness, Gustav Rosen’s intelligence was keen, 
and he hated the falseness which met him on 
every hand. Thus he was forced to pass many 
days in order to accomplish a complete reorgi- 
uation. With it all, he kept ever in view the 
adornment of one beautiful park on his estates. 
Everything that Karin loved best was grouped 
here; a merrily plashing brook was guided into 
an artificially formed channel, so that it raced 
down over a steep precipice, and in its fall 
might : ec i 1 h * Tj olllia ta. Finally, the last ar- 
rangements were completed, and, mounted on 
his swiftest horse, Gustav Rosen sped back to 
Copenhagen. 

He was struck dumb by the intelligence that 
the war with Sweden was about to open, and no 
one was permitted to leave Denmark. 

Gustav Rosen must cross at all hazards. He 
applied for permission to the most influential 
personages. In vain; they shrugged their 
shoulders, and pointed him to the rigid mandate 
of the king. They advised him, at the risk of 
forfeiting his estates, to make no attempt to car- 
ry out his plan. Notwithstanding, he made the 
attempt. The Swedish coast lay so temptingly 
near in the golden twilight; he fancied he heard 
the falls, and saw the blue eyes of Karin fixed 
upon him. He bribed a fisherman to convey 
him at midnight across the Sound, but close by 
the coveted shore, he fell into the hands of a 
Danish cruiser, was captured and brought back 


20 


KARIN. 


to Copenhagen. Suspicion was strong that he 
had purposed to inform the Swedes of the Da- 
nish preparations. He was confined for weeks 
in a gloomy tower, without so much as his name 
being known, and with scarce food enough to 
sustain life, till he, at length, was able to dis- 
patch a petition to the king. 

That very day his prison doors were unbarred 
his forgiveness implored for his unjust confine- 
ment, and he was commanded to present him- 
self the following day at the royal castle. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

King Christian II. of Denmark was a prince 
whose character forms one of the most remark- 
able contradictions of all time. In youth, licen- 
tious beyond all bounds, he still loved the fair 
Dyveke of Amsterdam with such tenderness 
and passion that he set at naught his father’s 
threats, and endured the severest penalties ra- 
ther than be faithless to his love. His nature 
was as despotic as that of an Oriental ruler. 
Whatever opposed him, he pursued by fraud or 
force till it was annihilated. He hated the Da- 
nish no less than the Swedish nobility, because 
it refused to bend like a reed under his hand. 
Treacherous, cruel and vindictive as the basest, 
ne was yet brave and of keen understanding. 
Because he humbled the nobles, who had trod- 
den under foot the rights' of the masses, the 
people clung to him. But more through fear 
than love, for they reasoned cleverly that it was 
better to have one tyrannical master who relied 
upon them for aid, than many who leagued to- 
gether to ignore their rights. Moreover, when 
he mixed among the lower classes, which in the 
interest of his far-reaching aims was frequently 
the case, no one. in j all Denmark possessed a 
more captivating address, a more upright sin- 
cerity and winning charm of manner than Chris- 
tian II. The piercing glance of his eye, the lord- 
ly demeanor vanished. Never did mortal have 
more complete control over his countenance, or 
a more dreadful faculty of concealing his 
thoughts. His smilejwas the same whether he 
took the goblet from the tradesman’s hand to 
drink his health and to drop a gold piece into it 
in acknowledgement, or he reached the cup with 
deadly poison to a powerful noble. 

One tie, however, endeared the king to the en- 
tire nation. Christian was a Dane from the 
crown of his head to the sole of his foot, and 
unceasingly nourished the ancient tradition of 
Denmark, which considered itself lord of the 
adjoining Sweden. The small nation of islanders 


shared the chagrin of their ruler at his limited 
power and narrowly bounded sway. A war for 
the complete subjugation of Sweden attracted 
under his flag even those who most feared and 
despised him. 

Soon after his accession to the throne, Chris- 
tian had espoused Isabella of Spain, sister of the 
German emperor, Charles V , and, as a proof 
that, in spite of the stigma which history attaches 
to his name, there was in him somethi ig not al- 
together unworthy, this woman never faltered 
in her devotion to him, but accompanied him 
through all the ruin and misery of his after life 
till her death. But the love of his heart was 
ever for the fair Dyveke, who, in defiance of his 
lawful wife, occupied a wing of the royal castle. 
His policy was guided by the crafty mother of 
his mistress, the former innkeeper at Bergen, 
and by his fawning confessor, the former b tr- 
ber’s apprentice Slaghok. These last constantly 
incited him to stricter and more injudicious 
measures against the aristocracy. They were 
the evil genii of his existence; but the bright 
star of his life, the only one which shed its mild 
rays upon Christian’s gloomy moroseness, was 
the singular child of Holland, the beautiful, 
gayly-pensive “Dove” of Amsterdam. She was 
devoid of envy or love of power; she loved not 
the king but the lover, and sought with mild, 
beneficent hand to lead him back from the toils 
of dangerous intrigue which her mother Sigbrit 
was weaving about him. Had the wise and gen- 
tle-eyed “Dove” lived longer, history would 
doubtless never have chronicled a Massacre at 
Stockholm. 

But Dyveke died. To this day her death is 
surrounded by mystery. The people who loved 
her charged the nobles with her death, and 
Christian, mad with grief at her loss, readily 
gave credence to the charge. The strongest 
suspicion rested on near relatives of the castle 
commandant of Stockholm, Torben Oxe. The 
latter was thrown into prison, and confessed 
upon the rack that he had loved Dyveke before 
the king had known her. In a phrensy of rage 
Christian commanded him to be beheaded and 
burned, and is said to have scattered the ashes 
to the winds with his own hand. Then began a 
bloody persecution of the nobility, wherever the 
suspicion of complicity in Dyveke’s death ex- 
tended. Countless heads fell under the axe, 
and old Sigbrit busily fanned the flame. Finally 
when even the mob began to murmur at the ex- 
termination of the noblest houses, she skillfully 
directed his fury towards Sweden and its nobles. 
The Stockholm Massacre was determined upon 
years before its execution. 


KARIN. 


21 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Strange th't two nrm of such opposite kind 
and direction as Christian II. and Gustav Erick- 
son should ever be of one mind. Yet so it was 
The former resolved to root out the aristocracy 
in order to subjugate Sweden; the latter, how- 
ever much he might abhor the bloody crime of 
the Danish tyrant, realized that the death of the 
nobles at Stockholm was the signal and the es- 
sential condition lor the overthrow of the Danish 
lule. Gustav Vasa knew that the longed-for in- 
dependence of his country was only possible 
through the complete suppression of the power- 
ful m ignites whose ambition and jealousy pre- 
vented union an 1 strength. 

Christian II. had become since Dyveke’s death 
more morose, pitiless and secret than before 
His good star had set. He passed his time in 
his c as tie in solitary musing, devising his dead- 
ly, far-reaching plans. 

At this time Gustav Rosen’s petition reached 
him. King Christian possessed many of the 
qualities of a great statesman. He was famili r 
with the history of e toll of the more important of 
his subjects, and knew instinctively where his 
own advantage lay. He bade the vonth relate 
the history of his shortlife, he listened wi;li at- 
tention and sympathy to his narration, and 
smiled when Rosen spoke of Karin Stenbock’s 
beauty. 

Before R>3cn lnl finished, the division in his 
feeling lay clear before Christi m, and lie com- 
prehend d the worth which he might hive for 
his plans. Though he denied his request to be 
permitted to return at once to Sweden, he dis- 
missed him with groat c mdcseension, promising 
in a few weeks to himself conduct him over the 
Sound, and giving him his royal word that if 
Brita Stenbock should take umbrage at the de- 
lay, lie would in person make good the breach. 
At these words, an omino; s light shue for a 
second in Christian’s eyes, then lie conducted 
the youth to the doer of the apartment, and, 
reaching him his hand in sight of the wondering 
attendants, dismissed him with great favor. 

Gustav Rosen numbered nineteen years, and 
had grown up under Brita Stenbock s stern 
rule. He was enchanted with the hour spent 
wi li Denmark’s sovereign. Tin* dark deeds of 
vengeance had been committed before liis time; 
he had scarcely be rd of them, and the universal 
enthusiasm for the war against Sweden effaced 
the memory of them in the minds of the people. 
True, the thought that K irin was a Swede fell 
now and then like a shadow over him, but what 
signified the accident of birth compared with liis 
or her love? Hj, too, was by birth a Swede, and 


yet the old feeling ho had had as a child had 
verified itsel*', — that Denmark was liis home. It 
must be hers also, so soon as she should know 
it, as it had been his mother’s and the beautiful 
Queen Dag mar's. For did not all their images 
blend tenderly together in his early recollec- 
tions? 

Yet lie was forced to submit. Weeks length- 
ened into m vitli -, uid lie could only send long- 
ing thoughts across the narrow strait, and not 
so much as one reassuring message to the loved 
one. But at 1 is — 1 1 ist, King Christian and his 
army prepared to move. Gustav Rosen received 
orders to hold himself near the person of the 
king. He had never borne arms against the 
land of his forefathers, and the crafty monarch 
did not by a word express that lie should do so. 
B it he kept him closely in the camp, where he 
was treated with flattering respect. Yet the 
youth was aware that lie was narrowly watched, 
and that any elf >rt to reach Torpa against Chris- 
ti m’s c nnmand would be as futile as his at- 
tempted flight across the Sound. He followed 
the Cam’ aign with indifference, vainly striving 
to carlo his hot impatience. He was a witness 
of the bloc dr battle of Vogesurd, where the 
brave Sfcen Stare met his fate, ai d Sweden fell 
a prey to the Danish invader, but he bad no 
conception of the import of that momentous day. 

On the evening of the same, the king f>i..d 
him 1 a ling in mute despair against a tree, gaz- 
ing into the moonlight. Christian was in his 
suit of mail. He had thrown himself with fiery 
impetuosity into the heat of the battle, and de- 
cided the issue in his favor. S idling grimiy as 
he approached from behind, he tapped his 
shoulder and said, 

“If the Rise of Trollliatta loved me, Gustav 
Rosen, I should saddle my horse, and ride to 
her within the hour. Greet her from me, and 
greet like vise Brita Stenbock, lier mother. If 
she is not content with her son-in-law, bring lier 
in November to my imperial capital of Stock- 
holm. I lia/e a remedy for that. I shall await 
you there on the first of Novemb r. Do you 
understand me?” 

Five minutes later Rosen sat in his saddle, 
gallopping off into the nig.it. When the day 
came and chased away the sli idows, ho rested 
a few hours, rather out of compassion for his 
beast than for himself, and sent as lie had agreed 
a messenger to Torpa ti inorm Kirin, and only 
Karin, of the hour of his coming. It was to be 
earlv afternoon, and he was careful to time bis 
arrival to the exact hour. 

And now the old elms which overshadowed 
the castle, and had made his room so gloomy, 
loomed once more in view. He passed taem un 


22 


KARIN. 


the right and hastened on; a different glamour 
than of old surrounded them, and his heart no 
longer beat timidly at sight of them, fearing his 
aunt’s harsh voice. 

Gustav Rosen smiled as he thought how all 
this had changed, and yet his heart beat ever 
quicker, fiercer, more fluttermgly. Nearer and 
nearer roared the Trollh&tta’s thundering blast 
of welcome. It seemed but yesterday that he 
had ridden away, but a moment since, looking 
back, he saw Karin as she had kissed him and 
said, “My heart counts the drops of Trollhatta, 
and each is an eternity for me — ” 

If some one had pronounced at this moment 
the name “Vogesund,” or asked him who had 
won the battle, he would not have heard it, 
would indeed scarcely have known it. 

How well he knew the paths! Just around 
this bend, a moment more, half a moment, and 
he would press his love to his heart! 

Now! This was the spot, and he leaped im- 
petuously from his horse. His eyes swept the 
place deliriously, could he have been mistaken? 
Did memory deceive him and was it another 
spot where Karin had spoken through tears, 
“Come, when you will, I shall await you by the 
Trollhatta.” 

No, impossible! Each tree, each stone was 
fixed indelibly in his mind. She must be here, 
she had only hidden herself to test his patience, 
and he hurried up the hillside, searching be- 
hind each rock, and through every clump of 
trees. Thus as children they had played here, 
and he knew every hiding-place whence her 
golden hair had so often shone out andbetrayed 
her. 

In vain! He had searched everywhere and 
now called her by name loudly, beseechingly. 
The rushing of the fall drowned his cry “Karin, 
Karin!” 

Gradually he recovered himself. The mes- 
senger must have mistaken the hour, she did 
not expect him yet. He climbed the hill from 
whence he could overlook Torpa, ready at her 
coming to conceal himself and steal back to the 
spot so hallowed by sweet memories of their 
parting. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Gustav Rosen had long to wait that day. Till 
twilight fell, and the crows flapped in swarms 
over Torpa, and vanished like shadows in the 
darkening air. Then in silence and vague fore- 
boding he mounted his horse and rode back to 
Torpa. 

A thousand thoughts assailed him. Had the 


messenger not arrived? Had— and his heart 
beat anxiously — Karin been detained by illness? 
Had Brita Stenbock perhaps — ? 

He drove his spurs into his horse till, at the 
unwonted infliction, it shot ahead like an arrow. 
In a few moments he had gained the casfl3, had 
alighted at the portal and fl; wa up the steps. A 
maid came in his way. “Where is Karin?” he 
questioned, “is she ill?” 

She answered that her young mistress was 
well, and expecting him with impatience. 

He drew a deep breath, threw open the door 
and entered precipitately, Karin advanced 
hastily to meet him. 

“Gustav, Gnstav!” she cried imploringly, “is 
it true that Sten Sture has fallen?” Her cheeks 
turned like fire, her eyes rested in motionless 
expectancy on his lips. 

“Karin,” he faltered, taking her hand, “did 
you not know that I had come? Where were 
you? Since noon I have waited for you at the 
Trollhatta.” 

The girl looked about her with returning con- 
sciousness, and fell sobbing on his breast. 

“Oh Gust iv, all is lost!” she moaned. He re- 
peated, “All is won, we have each other once 
more!” and kissed her passionately. 

She tore herself away and eyed him reproach- 
fully. “You came sit hours ago, and do not 
bring us the news till now?” 

“I waited six hours for you. Did my message 
not reach you?’ he returned somewhat discon- 
certed. 

She said almost angrily, “Is this a time to re- 
cal childish fancies? How could I dream that 
you would ride past Torpa?” she added more 
gently. 

“You had promised — if the world were crumb- 
ling about me, I would have come,” he returned 
in a low voice. “Has our love become chilu’s 
play to you, Karin?” 

His voice broke m sobs. Karin bent over him 
and kissed the starting tears from his eyes. 

“Poor Gustav, ’ she said tenderly, “I forgot 
what you must have suffered in your Danish pri- 
son!” 

Gustav Rosen had been “in prison,” and in the 
turmoil and confusion occasioned by the battle 
of Vogesund had escaped. No one doubted it, 
it was most natural. The youth himseif assent- 
ed to it tacitly. He was as if stunned, the stir- 
ring events of the day passed in review before 
him without his having the power to connect 
them. When he attempted, as he often did, to 
think them over, an inexpressible sadness and 
weariness overpowered him. He only saw how 
the pallor on Karin’s cheek alternated with a 
feverish flush as on the day of his arrival. In 


23 


KARIN. 


the color of her cheek, in the expression of her 
eye, he read the history of the world. She had 
grown vehement and passionate as never before. 
Passionate m gesture when news came from 
Calmar or Stockholm, which still resisted the 
Danes, passionate in her love when her arms 
were clasped about her lover’s neck, when her 
lips touched his. No longer- the gentle, compas- 
sionate playmate of her cousin, but the fairest 
maiden of the North; fair as the ancient bards 
pictured Freya, or as the poets of the day per- 
sonified the goddess of Liberty. And in that 
exquisite form dwelt two souls side by side and 
looked into the world through deep foreboding 
eyes. The one, with shining, wistful glance, 
fathomless as the blue of Spring and mysterious 
as a summer morn, loved Gustav Rosen. The 
other, looking with tremulous gaze far into the 
future, past the troubled countenance of her 
lever, was fixed upon an invisible goal and dri- 
ven thither by an irresistible force which si- 
lenced the voices about her like the rushing and 
raging waters uf the Trollhatta. 

Karin Stenbock’s first question had not been 
whether her father was wounded at Vogosund. 
She had asked if Stcn Sture had fallen. 

A frightful occurrence had followed in the 
wake of the day which sealed the fate of Swe- 
den. The messenger who announced the ap- 
proach of Gustav ltosen had also made known 
at Torpa the issue of the battle. And Brita 
Stenbock hearing it, fled forth, none knew whith- 
er. Through storm and rain she wandered in 
the direction of Vogosund. Hours after they 
found her fourteen milc3 from Torpa in a sta.e 
of utter exhaustion. She was brought home and 
lay for weeks between life and death until con- 
sciousness returned. Taen she looked up — but 
saw no more, for Brita Stenbock had become 
blind. 

K 

CHAPTER XIX. 

What were a woman’s eyes compared with the 
fate of Sweden.'* Karin wept at her mother’s bed- 
side, then was called away by a message from 
Stockholm. The pressure of circumstances had 1 
ripened Karin far beyond her years. Many de- 
tached links of the resistance which yet surged 
between rock and shore against the invaders 
were united in her hand. Her father took part 
in the delence of Stockholm, and a day seldom 
passed without some secret message reaching 
Torpa. Thus Karin, the eighteen year old gill, 
was forced in these matters to take her mother's 
place. Brita Stenbock would therefore have of- 
ten lain blind and lonely in her chamber with 


only the attendance of a maid, had there not 
been one who sat faithfully by her bedside and 
administered to her every wish — Gustav Rosen. 

He had never loved his aunt, yet the sight of 
the blind woman touched him even deeper than 
it did Karin. Brita Stenbock was a hard woman 
and did not murmur; she had not a sigh for her 
lost sight, nor a word of thanks for the young 
man who watched day and night by her side and 
patiently bore her imperious whims an d harsh 
words when he was unable to give her the de- 
sired information as to the events of the day. 
Gustav Rosen felt the loss of her eyes more 
keenly than that of Sweden’s liberty, perhaps 
more keenly than she herself. She was to him 
no longer the stern and petulant aunt to whose 
will he must bend, she was the mother of Karin — 
whose beauty she could never again behold. 
But if his kind heart and tireless attention found 
no recognition there, Karin was doubly appre- 
ciative, and often thanked him with an eloquent 
look of her blue eyes and a loving clasp of her 
slender fingers as she said, “How good you are, 
Gustav!” 

But that was when no messenger had arrived 
with urgent tidings from the battle-field. Then 
K irin neither saw her lover, nor heard his be- 
seeching words. Her eyes were as blind as her 
mother’s for all about her; she would stand as 
if wrapped in some magic spell, like the old bard 
whom the legend says stood on the brink of the 
Trollhatta and was drawn by the fiendish might 
of the thundering stream irresistibly to his doom. 
She had often heard the story in her childhood, 
and, standing by the fall, surveyed the spot 
from whence he was said to have sprung, not 
comprehending it. One peaceful twilight hour 
when they sat once more like happy children to- 
gether, Rosen had reminded her of it. He said 
jestingly that he sometimes fancied her the an- 
cient bard, and the fortunes of her country the 
rushing fall of Trollhatta which tore her from 
his arms. But he smiled confidently, saying 
that he could rescue her ever and again with 
his strong arm. 

“What is it, Karin?” he asked in sudden ter- 
ror. He felt a convulsive shudder pass over the 
girl at his words. Holding him close, she buried 
her head upon his breast. 

Then looking up strangely, she kissed him, 
saying softly, “Poor Gustav, do not grow weary, 
for if you should grow weary and the stream 
had seized me, and it were too late for you to 
rescue me — ” 

She shuddered again, and threw herself back 
upon his breast. “Do not forsake Karin,” she 
whispered, “for I love you so dearly — so dear- 
ly—” 


21 


KARIN. 


Then came a day when Stockholm fell. The 
superior numbers of the Danish besiegers from 
the sea overpowered the besieged. They lied 
into the interior, and dispersed to the north and 
south. Gustav Rosen also returned to Torpa. 
Sweden was lost, each had now to look to his 
personal safety. 

These were gloomy days for Sweden and es- 
pecially for Torpa, though the summer of the 
year 1520 was one of rare beauty and brightness. 
But the expected persecution did not ensue. 
The new king appeared to embrace all liis new 
subjects with paternal love and forbearance, to 
be oblivious of their resistance to his arms, and 
to freely forgive and forget all. In the most 
gracious manner he issued invitations to the en- 
tire nobility to attend his solemn coronation at 
Stockholm. For Gustav Rosen alone these 
gloomy days were happy ones. K win seemed 
restored as irom a long overclouded illness to 
health and joy and love once more. Leaning 
upon her lover’s arm, site strolled with him 
over mountain and valley as in their child lood 
days. She smiled again and his heart pulsed 
anew with happy life. His world was in her 
eyes, from which the sombre dream had down, 
and Karin’s heart seemed only tilled with tile 
old, unchangeable, yet new and g] >rified love. 
He murmured burning words in her ear, and 
she hid her face with happy blushes upon his 
breast. In this quiet time Gustav Stenbock 
also felt grert joy in his children’s happi- 
ness. 

But Brita Stenbock remained icy as ever 
towards Rosen, and was fertile in devising new 
excuses for postponing her d lughtor’s wedding. 
B ut at last every reason was exhausted, the mar- 
riage was fixed for December, and the lovers si- 
lently numbered the days. 

Stenbock now received the invitation and Gus- 
tav Rosen the command to appear at the corona- 
tion of Christian II. 

For Karin the parting was more tearful and 
sorrowful than the first. The separation would 
be short, but that the other should also have 
been. Still it was unavoidable, Stenbock him- 
self urged his son-in-law to it, since his refusal 
might have serious consequences. He himself 
pleaded an injured knee as sufficient ground for 
refraining from the exposure of the journey. He 
w'as as unsuspecting of danger as the others, with 
the exception of Gustav Erichson, but he held it 
ignominious to appear at the court of the monarch 
against whom ho had borne arms. 

On the day when but for Gustav Folkung’s 
arm Karin had been drawn into the whirlpool, 
Stenbock had altered his resolve. All the invi- 


ted guests had obeyed the king’s summons, and 
he feared chiefly for his children’s sake to use- 
lessly provoke the monarch’s anger. With >ut 
consulting his wife, of whose violent opposition 
he was abundantly assured, he set out for 
Stockholm. 

At Lake Wencr he met Gustav Rosen re- 
turning. Humanely roused and indignant at 
the bloody deed which he had witnessed, Gus- 
tav Rosen rode back at Stenbock’s side to Torpa. 
There he was moved to more passionate expres- 
sion than they had ever before heard fr >m him, 
till it seemed as if he too were touched to the 
quick by the shame and wrong done to Sweden. 
And. perhaps it was so, perhaps some inner 
voice told him that a noble nature must break 
loose from idle childish dreams, when a land, a 
nation, when his own Denmark rejoiced at the 
monstrous crime done by a treacherous prince 
to hundreds of the noblest of another race. 
That night, perliips, the youth well n‘gh Torg >t 
Gerda Rosen and the fair queen Daginar, the 
oeccli forests of Zealand and" the sunny dreams 
of his infancy, and all but comprehended that 
other soul, those other eyes of Karin Stenbock. 

MOM 

CHAP THR XX. 

And now all was dead and silent from the 
Baltic to the mountains of the North. The sun- 
less days scarce appeared, to vanish again, de- 
void of color, of joy, of hope. Brita Stenbock 
was fortunate above the rest, she saw them not, 
but she heard all the more acutely and her ear 
told her what her eye failed to perceive. 

Since that evening Gustav Rosen had not again 
forgotten his mother and the fair Dagmar. Ho 
had stood for a moment on a tottering ridge 
where a breath of wind might precipitate him 
either to the one side or the other. The storm 
which swept over T< rpa had thrown him back, 
and the massacie at Stockholm was off iced from 
his soul. He did not confess it to himself, but it 
was so. His emotions were paralyzed since the 
hour when, lest Karin’s room should be polluted 
by the tread of a foreign mercenary, lie had 
braved the wrath of the king and the halberds 
ofhis soldiers, and smilingly stepped over the 
threshold which for years he had not crossed. 

A dumb and nameless sorrow pierced his 
breast. He did not doubt Kirin, he accused 
her inwardly of no disloyalty, but the thought 
that sue ovas capable ot such an act, of under- 
taking secretly what might dim her pure image 
with the breath of suspicion, this it was that 
filled him with sorrow and distress. 


95 


K'ARIX. 


He now realized bitterly that there was in 
Karin’s soul an unsubstantial shadow, which, 
rising with gigantic form, might separate them 
forever. Just as little as he could fathom this, 
could Karin in her unsuspecting innocence con- 
ceive of the sorrow of her betrothed at the affair 
which had thus accidentally come to his notice. 
What she had done was so natural, and so im- 
peratively demanded by the circumstances, that 
she must have done it even with the knowledge 
that it would rouse suspicion. But she w?.s 
eighteen and her soul was like the snowy foam 
of the Trollhatta. 

Now that her promise was no longer binding, 
she related to her lover unreservedly all the 
particulars of the occurrence. Gustav Folkung 
was not the first refugee whom Torpa had shel- 
tered. But the fugitives had in other cases ap- 
plied to the lord of the castle, and it was the 
first time that Karin was forced personally to 
act with firmness and decision. 

She described very simply the powerful im- 
pression which the supplicant had made upon 
her, how it seemed as if he commanded and she 
must obey. Rosen’s cheek blanched as she 
spoke. He seemed on the point of uttering a 
word which should ease his palpitating breast, 
but he choked it back and listened in silence as 
the girl told of her fear when he was about to 
enter the room, because she had given her word 
to betray Folkung to no-one, and how at length, 
she had taken the desperate resolve to force her 
way through the midst of the soldiers and reach 
the other door of the room. 

“For I feared, Gustav, that in your surprise 
you might betray him before I had warned you. 
We heai d yon follow us ih:ough the passage and 
cry, ‘This way! This way!’ Why did you do 
that?” 

Her blue eyes looked up to him with unspeak- 
able innocence. A dark flush overspread his 
face like that of a guilty person, he seized her 
hands and covered them with kisses, saying 
brokenly, “Forgive me, Karin. I was so be- 
wildered by all that had passed at Stockholm, 
and here. I thought— I believed— to turn aside 
the pursuers — ” 

With the same steady gaze fixed upon him, 
she replied, 

“Strange that men, who are called the strong- 
er sex, lose their presence of mind in such a 
case, and do the very worst thing, for instead of 
turning aside the Danes, your cry put them 
upon our tiack. A moment more and it would 
have been too late. ’ 

She was silent for a few moments reflecting. 

“But why did you come through the passage 
at all?” she asked. The flush on the youth’s 


face was an angry one now, and an ominous 
light glowed in his eyes. “Your room gave me 
the clue, Karin, your bed. When I recall the 
moment when I perceived those traces — ” He 
stopped abruptly and turned away. 

“You knew then that I had some one con- 
cealed,” Karin continued reproachfully, “and 
you should have been doubly cautious, for your 
imprudence might expose me to the worst sus- 
picions.” 

Gustav Rosen turned and looked into the girl’s 
eyes. Reproach was in them, too, till she saw 
that she had wounded him, then the old happy 
love flamed up with such magic power that he 
fell upon his knees before her and murmured, 

“Forgive me, Karin, — forgive me! ’ She knew 
not what to forgive. An eternity lay between 
the suspicion of which she spoke as that to 
which his imprudence might have exposed her, 
and between that suspicion for which he now, 
while his tears fell mutely on her hand, implored 
forgiveness. She could only repeat as on that 
other evening, “You are so strange, Gustav — ” 

She should have said, Jealousy is strange. 
That double headed monster which changes co- 
lor with ecstasy and despair, guilt and repent- 
ance. Which like an evil spirit once conjured 
from the realms of shade never again forsakes 
the light of day. Which returns like delirium 
to its unhappy victim, blinding his eyes, dark- 
ening his brain, dashing him bruised and sense- 
less to earth. Which wakes him from sleep by 
the rustling of a leaf, and lashes him on in pur- 
suit of shadows. Which in lucid moments he 
knows as his mortal foe, against which he wars 
and struggles and conquers till the hour of temp- 
tation draws near, and he again falls a helpless 
prey. 

Foikung’s name never again crossed! Rosen’s 
lips, but it was engraven in ineffaceable charac- 
ters on his heart. December was long past,J .nd 
with it the day fixed for the wedding. The sky 
hung too lowering over Sweden, and Brita Sten- 
bock’s abrupt decision that now was no time for 
merry-making admitted of no question. 

-4 

CHAPTER XXI. 

The winter passed wearily at Torpa Castle. 
The deep snow was untrodden by footprints 
■showing connection with the outer world, and 
far and wide only the cry of the ravens was to 
be heard about the great solitary building. 

The rigid and long-continued cold made even 
those neighborly ^for they came to the kitchen 
and almost plucked the morsels from the hands 
of the maids; they waited like doves, too, for 


KARIN. 


%' 

hours at the windows, till Karin out of pity, 
strewed food for them. There were among them 
little graceful jackdaws with shining black plu- 
mage th it approached the girl fearlessly and 
differed little from doves. They would light 
upon Kirin’s shoulder, and daintily pick the 
corn from her hand. 

She must have heard from them what was 
passing in the world, for she had certain inform- 
ation, though no-one entered the house. She 
knew of the uprising among the Dalecarlians, 
the “valley men,” into whose rude wilderness 
Gustav Vasa had fled. And knew, too, with ex- 
actness the list of the unfortunates, who having 
escaped the Stockholm massacre were tracked 
by Christiau’s spies through the whole Swedish 
empire and dragged to death. Even children 
were not spared. At Jonkoping a nobleman of 
the name of Ribbings was beheaded with his two 
sons in the presence of the king. The elder of 
the two numbered eight years, and when his 
head fell under the axe, the blood bespattered 
the dress of his five year old brother who stood 
by. The child entreated the executioner, “Please 
do not soil my clothes, for my mother will scold 
me,” and the man threw the axe from his hand 
and refused to kill the child. But King Christian 
summoned another whom he bade after behead- 
ing the child to dispose in like manner of the 
compassionate executioner. 

All these things were known at Torpa, but 
Brita Stenbock’s countenance never changed, 
she uttered never a word of indignation. It was 
daily more apparent that the house of Stenbock 
had made peace with Sweden’s king. That was 
wise, very wise, for it ranked among the first of 
the few remaining noble families, and might even 
claim through the favor of the monarch to be the 
greatest in the land. Whispered execrations 
upon their treachery to their country were angri- 
ly and scornfully uttered, and it was already 
noised about that upon Christian’s projected re- 
turn to Denmark, Stenbock was to be instated 
as Regent of Sweden. There were some who 
still doubted and angrily disclaimed the fact, but 
they were silenced too, when it was announced 
that the King was about to accept Stenbock’s in- 
vitation to visit Torpa and grace the nuptials of 
Karin Stenbock and Gustav Rosen with his pre- 
sence. 

Rumor was right. Brita Stenbock had herself 
requested her nephew to entreat this favor of 
the king, and he had joyfully followed his aunt’s 
bidding. 

April was wafting a first gentle breath fr.om 
the South, when Gustav Rosen left Torpa and 
rode over the well-nigh impassable roads to- 
wards Stockholm. Then came a message from 


him that the king had consented, and would 
reach Torpa on the first of May, but that he him- 
self could not return sooner, as it was Christiau’s 
pleasure to keep him till then at his side. 

The Spring does not come with April in Swe- 
den. The snow still covered Torpa, the jack- 
daws still waited at the windows, and still 
perched upon Karin’s shoulder, whispering 
strange news from afar in her ear. They often 
flew up affrighted at a sudden noise. For there 
was much bustle in the old building which had 
been so silent through the winter. The hammer 
resounded all the day and busy hands never res- 
ted to put all in readiness for the recaption of the 
honored guest, and for the festivities to be held 
during his stay. 

The lelt wing of the castle was set apart for 
the king and his suite; here also, in a spacious 
hall, the altar was erected. The whole house, 
according to the custom of the ’ north, was 
decked with pine and mistletoe. 

Ceaseless noise and confusion reigned through- 
out the day. Brita Stenbock’s blind eyes saw 
and ordered all, whilst Karin’s glittered strange- 
ly as she followed her mother’s directions. It 
was strange but unmistakable that the look had 
no connection with the altar which was being 
erected in the great hall. They were Karin’s 
other eyes, those eyes which Gustav Rosen 
feared and did not understand. 

Not till night came was there silence in the 
lonely castle. The workmen dispersed to the 
quarters which had been provided for them in 
the out-buildings. None of them passed the 
night in the castle. As soon as they had left 
Stenbock himself closed the outer doors and 
fastened the heavy bolts. Before daybreak no- 
one was again admitted, and not a sound in the 
great building penetrated without. Within 
there was now and then a strange noise, as if 
Karin’s jackdaws had stolen an entrance ar.d 
under cover of the night were cautiously flap- 
ping their way up the stairs and through the 
long dusky halls! 



CHAPTER XXII. 

It was early morning on the first of May. A 
brilliant corte ;e swept along over the broad sur- 
face of Lake Wetter, whose last ice the Motala 
river, but just released from its wintry bondage, 
had borne to the North Sea. More than one of 
the bystanders who gazed on the gaily-decked 
boats, in whose midst the royal barge was con- 
spicuous, may have had other wishes than the 
timid lip dared utter as the procession again 
touched dry land and moved in a westerly di- 


KARIN. 


rection along the broad road, upon which for 
weeks past the peasants had been busied night 
and day. 

Up in Dalecarlia, doubtless, the l'ps would not 
have withheld their curses, and King Christian, 
perchance, not nave pas $ed unmolested by the 
broad-shouldered sons of the land, any one of 
whom with a quick thrust of a knife, might have 
easily pierced the royal heart. But there was 
nothing to fear here. Men called it the first of 
May, but winter still held Sweden in its dead 
and rigid grasp. 

Dark and cold as the winter was Christian’s 
glance as he rode by in the pale light of the May 
sun, whose cold gleams put its name to scorn. 

The horse which the king bestrode was black 
from the proudly arching neck to the flowing 
tail, and the scarlet housings glistened like 
blood on a dark background. One snow-white 
spot upon its forehead was like the white gleam 
from the royal eyes as they shot rapid glances 
over the groups by the wayside. His look was 
more steely than ever, since that night at Stock- 
holm, and deep furrows seamed his forehead. 
The dreadful eyes had a threat of death in them 
whenever they failed to meet fearful and sub- 
missive looks. It needed but a nod of the royal 
head t< cause the bared and blood-stained axe 
to descend, which the savage executioner bore 
conspicuously upon his back. 

The only one who was unconscious of all this 
was Gustav Rosen. The May sun seemed to 
him as warm and dazzling as that of mid-sum- 
mer, his eyes conjured a roseate glow upon the 
barren fields, and in the looks of the assembled 
peasantry, he beheld only curiosity and re- 
spectful awe. He rode by the king’s command 
at his Majesty’s left side, his horse bounded so 
joyfully beneath him that he could scarce con- 
trol it. Christian was taciturn as ever. Here 
and there he let fall a few meagre words, which 
the youth, absorbed in happy dreams of the fu- 
ture, often failed to hear, end the king moodily 
let it pass. The house which he was to honor 
by his presence was not unimportant for his 
plans. In the pers; n of Stenbock he received 
the homage of the surviving and fugitive Swedish 
nobility, at the same time he was assured of 
Gustav Rosen’s allegiance to himself. They 
were traversing Falkoping Field uow, and the 
king lifted himself eagerly in his stirrups. 

“We have improved upon our ancestress, 
Mistress Semiramis,” he suddenly spoke in a 
sharp voice, “Margaret was not skilled in hus- 
bandry, and forgot that in order to make a wild 
country tillable, the stumps must be rooted 01 t 
and the soil must be enriched with blood. Had 
the done so, the fair dmghters of the land 


•27 

would love us better to-day, and find us less ill- 
favored. Or think you, Rosen, that the Rose of 
Trollhatta will overlook our age in virtue of our 
office, and call us pleasing?” 

Christian accompanied this questian with a 
short laugh, and threw a hasty searching glance 
at his companion’s face. Before the latter could 
reply, however, the king pursued, “Here lie the 
bones which our worthy ancestors heaped to- 
gether, Rosen, and my horse’s hoof cleaves now 
perchance the clever skull of your grandsire, 
who was fool enough to risk it on a thing like 
Sweden. We are wiser, Rosen, we will conclude 
no Calmaric Union upon a field sown with flesh 
and blood, but another union from which flesh 
and blood shall spring. Let us ride faster, the 
sun is sinking and the Rose of Trollhatta awaits 
us.” 

His Majesty King Christian II. of Sweden, Nor- 
way and Denmark was in rare good humor to-day. 
Those nearest in his suite exchanged meaning 
glances. Christian’s laugh was as ominous as 
the glaring sunlight which breaks from a bank 
of thunder clouds. And now they were forced 
to drive their spurs into their horses and gallop 
in wild pursuit of the king’s black charger as it 
shot forward over Falkoping Field. 

Twilight had fallen, and Torpa Castle was 
bright with scores of lamps and torches to re- 
ceive the bridegroom and his royal escort. The 
master of the house waited at the entrance with 
uncovered head to greet his noble guest. In the 
shadow of the curtain of a window on the upper 
floor stood Karin Stenbock and looked out. Her 
heart beat madly and her bosom heaved. With 
the eyes which Gustav Rosen feared she sur- 
veyed the retinue of the king. Those eyes did 
not seek her lover, nor rest upon him when 
found, but wandered anxiously over the mount- 
ed attendants of the king, who already filled the 
courtyard and still thronged in with glittering 
halberds from without. Karin mustered their 
numbers rapidly, and her face grew pale. She 
staggered back and grasped at the curtain for 
support, then turned without a sound and 
vanished. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Gustav Stenbock meanwhile was assisting the 
king to alight. Christian, after a quick glance at 
the long and brilliantly lighted building, ex- 
tended his hand graciously to his host. For an 
instant, a sudden faintness seem to overcome 
Stenbock as it had, just before, his daughter. 
He stared at th royal hand, but his own was 
slow to grasp it, and was raised instead to wipe 


26 KARIX. 


the cold sweat which started to his brow. 
Christian frowned. 

“You invited us in the autumn to visit you, 
Stenbock, our captain delivered the message at 
the time,” he said with a scornful intonation, 
only intelligible to his host. “Though you did 
not obey our summons, nor grant us the honor 
of your presence in Stockholm, we know that 
you had sufficient excuse. You see that we bear 
you no ill-will, but are to-day your guest, and 
await your welcome.” 

There must have been something in these 
words which restored to Stenbock his wonted 
firmness, for he took the proffered hand and said 
in a steady voice, “Welcome!” 

The king mounted the staircase, which was 
spread with rich carpets, at the side of his host, 
his suite following. But at the fifth step he 
turned. 

“The king of Sweden is safe in Gustav Sten- 
bock’s house,” he said, “and needs no guard. 
Choose twelve knights, Captain Torben, to ac- 
company us, the others may pass the night be- 
low. Come, Stenbock, we are eager to behold 
the Rose which we are to place to-morrow in 
Rosen’s hand.” 

And King Christian laughed once more. Gus- 
tav Stenbock’s face grew whiter than the wall 
near which he stood, and he had all but missed 
his footing and reeled backward upon the twelve 
chosen knights. But now he advanced with his 
guest and conducted him with his retinue into 
the apartments of the left wing, where Brita 
Stenbock waited to welcome them. Standing 
erect in the centre of the first apartment, she 
asked, as they approached, in a firm voice, 

“Do I stand before King Christian of Sweden?” 

Stenbock assented; for the first time Christian’s 
inflexible features betrayed surprise. He knew 
that the woman before him was Denmark’s most 
implacable enemy, who, he had thought, would 
sooner lay her head upon the block than bend 
before him. A passing glow of genuine satis- 
faction lit up his hard face as Brita Stenbock 
continued, 

“I bid you welcome, King Christian. I thank 
you in the name of my country, for I trust that 
your sojourn under this roof shall promote the 
welfare of Sweden.” 

Brita Stenbock did not change color, nor did 
she falter as she spoke these words. After a 
deep inclination, she stood, her grey head im- 
movably erect, and her eyes fixed quietly before 
her, waiting for the king’s hand. He took hers 
in visible agitation and led her to the head of 
the long banquet-table iu the adjoining room, 
where she seated herself by his side, and, di- 
ecting the attendants who stood behind her, 


performed the duties of hostess with as much 
grace and precision as if her eyes had power of 
sight. It was apparent from the care with which 
in her blindness she still sustained the dignity 
of the house, that she was a remarkable woman, 
and that she was not unconscious of the scruti- 
nizing gaze of her guest. King Christian now 
arose, and touched the goblet of his hostess, 
which she with unerring hand advanced to meet 
his. 

“To the health of this house!” he said and 
drank. 

“To the health of Sweden!” responded Brita 
Stenbock, and, draining her goblet to the dregs, 
reseated hei'self calmly. 

The lights from the walls were reflected in the 
heavy silver service which decked the table, 
they sparkled back from the red wine, and the 
odor of the tempting viands which were being 
carried iu began to fill the hall. The king 
seemed well content, though his eyes still sought 
something. Soon, however, he turned some- 
what impatiently to his hostess and asked, 

“And the Rose of the feast to which we are 
bidden, why does she tarry? Methinks I see 
yonder a pair of expectant eyes which with still 
greater right put the question.” 

He motioned towards Gustav Rosen, who sat 
mutely in the centre of the table, apparently 
blind and deaf to all about him. The youth 
had, so soon as he could withdraw himself from 
Christian s side, gone in search of Karin. He 
had hastened through the entire castle without 
finding her. Everyone had seen her but the 
moment before, but no-one knew where she had 
gone. Entiiely absorbed in his perplexing 
thoughts, Rosen failed to perceive the king’s 
gestnre. But suddenly he sprang up rapturous- 
ly, for the delinquent herselt stood upon the 
threshold of the dining-hall. 

Karin was still pale, but in the ruddy light of 
the torches her beauty was only heightened. 
She wore along trained robe of costly white ma- 
terial, and about her waist a blue girdle — the 
colors of Sweden. Her hair dropped its sunny 
wealth over her bare shoulders. It was a lovely 
and li^T; royal sight, as she advanced into the 
full blaze of the lights. Every eye turned upon 
her in wonder, every goblet about to be lifted to 
the lips was involuntarily lowered. 

But only two of those present at the banquet 
sprang up from their seats, Gustav Rosen and 
King Christian of Sweden. Karin was near to 
the latter, who reached her first and cried, 

“By my faith, Rose of Trollhatta— for your 
name need not be spoken to tell us it is you 
indeed — you are guilty of high treason for each 
moment of absence from our sight. 


KARIN. 


29 


In punishment you shall be separated this 
evening from your betrothed, whom thousands 
shall envy this prize. Sweden’s queen is not 
here to occupy her rightful seat, and after her, 
you are the worthiest. Come, maiden, and we 
challenge all presdnt td follow our example 
and greet the queen of the evening.” 

Ho seized the girl’s hand and led her like a 
princess to the seat at his right. ’ Karin’s eye 
met her lover’s with a hasty glance of welcome, 
then with the lofty pride of a veritable queen 
she seated herself at Christian’s side. He, still 
standing, emptied his goblet in her honor. The 
knights in attendance did likewise, bending low 
before the daughter of the house; there was 
that in the king’s eye as ho rivetted his gaze 
upon Karin which caused them to bend lower 
than they would in all likelihood have done be- • 
fore the real Queen of Sweden in her castle at 
Copenhagen. Rosen could not credit his senses. 
Was that the same Karin who was willing to sac- 
rifice her lover for the sake of her country? 
There were those other eyes which he feared, 
which knew naught of Gustav Rosen and yet 
which now hung upon every movement of King 
Christian. She smiled upon him and he drank 
wine she poured for him. One could see the 
blood mount into the girl’s face at the flatteries 
he -whispered low in her ear. 

“She is more beautiful than the Dove of Am- 
sterdam, she will bring good luck to Sweden,” 
whispered the knights among themselves. 

Had Karin Stenbock seen but one road which 
led to Sweden’s salvation, and would she tread 
it as did once Esther to the throne of the Persian 
Kings? Then shall posterity admire your 
strength, Karin Stenbock, perhaps give you 
honor, but your love was false and your heart 
is corrupt. Pause once more! You tremble still 
and anxiously seek your'father’s eye. Is it he 
who has sold you for the welfare of Sweden? 
Whose unwavering look bids you enter with 
courage the path of treachery to Gustav Rosen? 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

It was a night of feasting such as Torpa rarely 
if ever had witnessed. King Christian was 
ordinarily abstemious; since the Stockholm 
massacre he never drank wine which had not 
first been tasted by another. But every doubt 
vanished at Karin’s side, and he emptied each 
cup which her white hand filled for him. His 
eyes hung enraptured on her face; his tongue 
became heavy with wine, so that he could no 
longer whisper, but spoke so loudly that Brita 
Stenbock was a forced listener to each of his 


impassioned words. But she like her hus- 
band sat unmoved, like an ancient effigy upon 
her high carved chair. Gustav Rosen likowise 
replenished his goblet freely from the tall silver 
tankard and emptied it quickly. He tried to 
drown every thought, to render himself misera- 
ble — till the morrow. It was past midnight, the 
king seemed desirous of concluding the festivi- 
ties, and yet hated to give the signal. His 
hand rested on the arm of Karin’s chair, he 
opened his lips to speak, but closed them again. 
“Beautiful Karin,” at last he said as softly as 
was in his power, ' ‘it is time for us to part. I 
must sleep under your protection, sweet Rose; 
where have you placed me? Am I far from 
you? Sleep will shun my eyes if I no longer 
hear your soft breathing.” 

The color died out of the girl’s face, but she 
remained as in a trance by his side as he con- 
tinued with heavy tongue, his maudlin gaze 
upon her." “Do you know that I have the right 
to watch over you this night, to have a care that 
no one molest you? I might forbid you to lock 
your door, but I only entreat, Karin, not as a 
king who can command, but as a friend who be- 
fore the day breaks must speak with you. Will 
you expect me? If not, my horse shall be in- 
stantly saddled, and I shall ride away, and 
another may lead you to the altar— if he dare. 
Do not answer, drink a yes to me if you will 
expect me.” 

This time the king had spoken so low that 
no one heard his words but she to whom they 
were addressed. 

Karin raised her cup, but her hand trembled 
till the wine spilled, and spread like blood over 
the table, and her imploring eyes passed by the 
king and sought her father’s face. 

“Courage!” said Stenbock’s unflinching eye, 
“Courage !” 

And Karin pledged the king and drank. 

His eyes glowed like the fire of the spilled 
wine. “See to it,” he whispered, “that my at 
tendants are so disposed of, that none can hoar 
or disturb us, I have much to say to you, Karin.” 

The fingers of the royal hand, resting upon 
her chair, advanced boldly and closed upon her 
own, whilst with the other he unclasped a heavy 
bejewelled chain from his neck and slippod it 
into her lap. 

“Hang it upon the knocker of your door,” ho 
said, “that I may know the beauteous garden 
where such a rose blooms. And tell me how I 
may roach it unobserved.” 

A snow figure, shaped by children’s hands, 
is not whiter than was Karin Stenbock’s face as 
she bent toward the king and murmured brok- 
enly and almost inaudibly. 


30 


KARIN. 


“A passage leads from your door to the right ; 
count thirteen steps and turn to the left, and 
you will reach a door which leads to me. The 
chain will guide you — an, hour after all is quiet, 
I shall expect you.” 

The girl’s strength was spent, her head fell 
back powerless against her chair. King Ahasu- 
erus surveyed her once again with covetous 
eyes and arose. “Our queen is weary,’’ he said 
aloud, filling his glass once more, “let us drink 
to her dreams to-night.” 

Again the goblets clashed and the courtiers 
bent low before the new sun of May which had 
risen at midnight to their astonished view. 
Then they prepared to follow the king, but he 
waved them back. 

“We need no watch to-night, Captain Torben, 
we wish to rest undisturbed. Our hospitable 
entertainer has without doubt made such pro- 
visions that you may sleep off his excellent 
wines on soft couches. Our thanks, Stenbock, 
we are satisfied. Rosen will permit us to 
return thanks to our hostess, according to time- 
honored customs.” 

Christian’s licentious nature was past control, 
at the last words he threw his arm about Karin’s 
neck and pressed a kiss upon her forehead. 
“In an hour,” he whispered. 

Esther’s painful struggle was ended. 

“In an hour,” she repeated softly but steadily, 
“do not forget what I have said.” 

M*M 

CHAPTER XXY. 

Silence reigns in Castle Torpa. Night broods 
over Sweden, only the cloud shadows which 
drift across the moon linger upon the battle- 
fields of Ealkoping and Yogesund, and only the 
waves of the Malar splash against the castle- 
steps at Stockholm and seek to wash away the 
blood-stains from its granite foundations. They 
send spring greetings to the westward; the 
waters of Lake Hielmar hear them and waft 
them on across the boundless expanse of Lake 
Wener. And the Trollhatta thunders to its 
depths, Spring is at hand! 

Karin’s jackdaws have also heard it, and are 
rejoicing in the May moonlight. Perhaps they 
fear the glittering halberds which fill the gar- 
den and the court around Torpa, lest a shadow 
of the earth or air approach unnoticed the 
royal couch, for they gather on the solitary 
shore of the Trollhatta. The snow which spread 
a white mantle over the rocky ascent, has not 
yet yielded to the sun of May, and their dark 
forms are plainly seen upon its glittering Sur- 
face. They appear silent, but it is possible 


that the blast of the Trollhatta drowns the 
sound. The night is so clear that one can count 
them as they approach across the Gotaelf at the 
head of the falls. There are just forty; they 
cross the stream, follow it a little downwards 
then suddenly slip into the hillside, where their 
rocky nests must be, one by one, and vanish, as 
if scattered by the wind, from the face of the 
moonlit valley. 

Only the measured pacing of the sentinels 
disturbs the quiet which envelops Torpa, the 
lights and the torches are all extinguished and 
the great house is still. Captain Torben and 
his men are reposing on soft couches in the 
second story, Sten bock’s wine deadens their 
senses, not one hears the roaring of Trollhatta 
which thunders miles away through the night. 

In a high and dimly-lighted chamber sits 
King Christian II. upon a richly cushioned arm- 
chair. He had thrown himself for a moment 
upon the silken bed, which is surmounted by a 
massive gilt crown, but impatience and expecta- 
tion had prompted him to leave it. He is look- 
ing intently at the crimson window-hangings, 
which fall, in the shimmer of the night-lamps, 
like broad stripes of blood from ceiling to floor. 
The air from the window which the king had 
opened to cool his heated brow, moved them 
softly to and fro till one might fancy that blood 
were slowly trickling from the walls. Since 
the autumn of the preceding year the sovereign 
of the three empires of the north was timid and 
superstitious — that color was odious to him and 
he now sprang up from his seat, and bending 
down, stares fixedly at the curtains. 

No, he is not thinking of the bloody heads 
which in the autumn had rolled at his feet in 
Stockholm, not now, a stronger charm holds his 
fears in check. Before his fancy rises another 
head with golden hair falling over white shoul- 
ders, and he listens to the silence in the house. 
Now he throws off his outer garment beneath 
which a glittering, thick-meshed shirt of mail of 
fine and pliable steel is visible. He hesitates a 
second, then throws this, too, hastily aside 
and wraps himself in a long, loose robe of dark 
rich material. King Christian is still in his for- 
ties, and as he passes the tall mirror of polished 
metal it reflects a form of fine and kingly aspect, 
of one who needs not be a king in order to win 
the heart of an eighteen year old girl. It is not 
the wine alone which has effaced the sullen 
scowl and suspicious look which are wont to 
disfigure his countenance. King Christian loved 
the fair Dv veke not less hotly and passionately 
than Gustav Rosen loved Karin Stenbock, and 
the Rose of Trollhatta is not less fair than 
the Dove of Amsterdam. 


KARIN. 31 


You have readied vour desire, Esther. To- 
morrow you shall command the sullen ruler of 
your country, and Sweden’s salvation, for which 
your eyes— those other eyes— ‘have long watched 
in vain, shall lie in your white hand. 

— 

CHAPTER XXYI. 

Is Karin thinking of this as she Stands there 
in her room, with this hand pressed upon her 
Wildly throbbing heart, and the golden chain 
upon the knocker whose diamonds shed their 
shining beckoning lustre upon the surrounding 
gloom? 

Her face is still as pallid as when she sat at 
Christian’s side. But she trembles no longer, 
she is listening intently through the deathly 
silence of the house. 

And now there comes a soft, cautious step, 
hardly audible to the sharpest ear, even in the 
complete stillness. It does not come from 
the hall, but from an adjoining chamber, and 
pauses at the door, through the opening of 
which Gustav Folkung had once looked upon 
Brita Stenbock. An almost inaudible knock, 
Karin pushes back the bolt noiselessly and 
opens. Gustav Rosen’s passionate arms are 
around her and he covers brow and cheek and 
mouth with kisses. 

“You would have driven me mad, Karin, had 
you not whispered to me that you would ex- 
pect me this evening. After a month of restless 
nights and days away from you, I return to see 
you — but only to see you, as one in the distance, 
without a welcome from you.” 

His voice was loud with emotion; the girl 
disengaged herself from his arms, and laid a 
W'arning finger on his lips. “Hush,” she whis- 
pered. Her eyes sought the door and she bent 
her lips to his ear and breathed the words: 

“In some moments King Christian will enter 
that door in search of me. I fear him, therefore 
I have summoned you. For you are my sure 
defence and must remain in the next room, 
Gustav. It should all have been different, and 
mother bade me tell you nothing. But the 
court and garden are filled with armed men 
and all is changed. I could not have done it, 
had I not known that you would be with me.” 

The youth regarded her in dumb amazement, 
his mind wandered, he comprehended nothing 
that she said. Again she placed her lips to his 
and whispered histy words. He started back 
in afri ht, and raised his hand to his head. 

“Here, where I have led him, where my hon- 
oris at stake — impossible, never.” he uttered 
brokenly. 


Karin’s blue eyes flashed dark as night. 
“Gustav,” she said in a trembling tone, “are 
you no Swede? Only a Swede can possess this 
hand!” 

He looked at her blankly, desparingly. 

“The time is going, the king may leave his 
room at any moment,” she continued hastily. 
“The light from his lamp in the hall is the sig- 
nal for Gustav Folkung. ’> She broke off sudden- 
ly to listen. Her eyes were turned away from 
Rosen’s face, and she did not perceive the mad- 
dened look that crept into it. But a single 
spark Was needed to kindle the smouldering 
fire of passion in Gustav Rosen’s breast, and 
Karin had thrown it with the name which laid 
hold upon the blind, double headed monster in 
his heart and bore it triumphantly to the light. 

“Gustav Folkung!” he cried with a loud, 
hoarse laugh, “is he coming to fetch you! — Gus- 
tav Folkung!” 

Repulsing Karin roughly in her attempt to 
hold him lack, he rushed to the door and flung 
it open with such violence that the gold chain 
fell in pieces to the ground. 

The sound of his voice and his heavy tread 
wakens an answering echo at the farther ex- 
tremity of the corridor where the flight of steps 
leads into the castle garden. A. confused mur- 
mur ascends; there must be conflict below. 
There are cries of “Treason” and “Back!” but a 
firm voice sounds above the din and commands, 
“Forward!” 

Those are Karin’s jackdaws. They vanished 
into the earth kfid now reappear. No one 
will yield the lead to another, they storm for- 
ward in a solid body throitgh the narrow pass- 
ageway. 

A second more, and they will have cut off re- 
treat for the man who advances in a loose robe 
shielding his light with his hand. King Chris- 
tian’s fevered senses have perceived nothing, he 
counts thirteen ateps and turns to the left. 

Then Gustav Rosen rushes like a madman 
upon him, and grasps his arm, crying, “Save 
yourself.” He drags the king back to the 
chamber he had just left. “You are betrayed! 
Gustav Yasa has forced his way by a subter- 
ranean passage into the castle!” 

Those are no jackdaws which crowd into the 
halls. They are the herculean forms of the 
Dalecarlians, each of whom might bear the 
sovereign of the Northern Empires like a child 
in his arms. Gustav Stenbock leads them on. 
The plan is unsuccessful. All depends now 
upon despatch, no longer upon secrecy. 

“Where is the tyrant?” 

Reaching Karin, who has hastened after her 
lover, she indicated the way. 


32 


KARIN. 


Every gleam which Rosen loved has died out 
of her eyes. With lips trembling with scorn 
and anger, she cries, “He flees to his room, Gus- 
tav Rosen has betrayed us!” 

A wild curse breaks from the lips of the fore- 
most and Gustav Folkung, sword in hand, 
plunges in the direction which she indicates. 
The fugatives are still in the corridor; the king’s 
lamp is extinguished and in the wild flight the 
door is past. Their life, Sweden’s fate hangs 
upon a second. 

But Gustav Rosen knows every inch of Torpa 
Castle even in the dark. Feeling his way back, 
he finds the door, drags the king in with him, 
and shoves the bolt within just at the moment 
when Folltung’s hand strikes the heavy metal 
knocker from without. 

“An axe! Hew down the door! Enter the 
oomby another door, Stenbock!” 

But the door resists, and Gustav Rosen’s 
voice sounds from the window: 

“Help! Rescue the king!” 

In a twinkling the silence of the night has 
fled. Hundred-voiced tumults arises on every 
side, the clash of arms comes up the broad 
stairs; Captain Torben and his comrades spring 
from their beds, and, seizing their swords, reel 
half-clad to the spot. They meet Stenbock and 
his band, who endeavor to penetrate into the 
king’s chamber through the banquet hall. 

The spears with which the fearless Dalecar- 
lians are wont to confront the bears in their 
dens strike mortally into the naked breasts of 
the Danes. Knut Torken, slill heavy with 
sleep, staggers toward the sturdy form of the 
lord of the castle and cries: 

“We sleep under your roof! Is that Swedish 
hospitality, Gustav Stenbock?” 

“Stockholm hospitality, Knut Torben! You 
have taught it us!” thunders Stenbock and his 
uplifted sword descends upon the temples of 
his foe, who with a cry falls to the ground near 
the spot where a few hours since he had drank 
to the health of the man who has delt him his 
deathblow. The battle rages around the long 
table; but the fallen Danes have for a moment 
held back the mountaineers from the king, and 
at Rosen’s call help comes from below. The 
torches which the soldiers have hurriedly light- 
ed throw a ruddly glare through the hall and 
passages. 

“Lost! Back!’’ cries Stenbock in a hollow tone. 
The Dalecarlians are forty against a hundred. 
It would be an act of desperate folly to pursue 
their object longer. And now there is danger 
of being cut off from retreat. Stenbock calls 
this to Folkung who turns and seizes Karin 
standing like a marble image watching the 


approach bf the Danes, in his arms. 

“We shall meet again, Christian!” he says 
grinding his teeth. Then with the muscular 
strength of the best of his stalwart comrades he 
bears the girl away with him. The others fol- 
low with a resistance as stout as the brave band 
of Leonidas at Thermopylae. Their short 
weapons are unavailing against the long hal- 
berds of the Danes, but their bodies in falling 
obstruct the narrow passage. 

At this moment King Christian appears m 
coat of mail at the door through which he had 
fled. He is followed by Gustav Rosen, who 
overlooks with ashen face the scene of desola- 
tion which his cry has conjured up. The torches 
flicker horribly upon the dead faces on the 
floor. His searching eye espies over the heads 
of the combatants at the end of the hall a white 
point. It is Karin’s dress. Roused from his 
momentary stupefaction, Gustav Rosen plunges 
across the landing and down the main stairway. 
Collecting the few soldiers that still remain bo- 
low, he leads them around the corner into the 
garden to the small door through which Karin 
once secretly conducted Gustav Folkung. 

“This way!” With a massive halberd snatch- 
ed from the nearest soldier he strikes a thun- 
dering blow upon the wood. His comrades fol- 
low it with a hundred others. The door gives 
way, Rosen’s vehemence removes the last re- 
sistance. For the second time he confronts 
Gustav Folkung’s flaming eyes upon the same 
spot. But this time they have no power over 
him; unheeding the spears of the Dalecarlians 
who press close upon their leader, he grasps at 
Karin’s arm. She lies as if bereft of life on 
Folkung’s left arm, while the latter with his 
right tears open the heavy oaken door of the 
subterranean passage. 

“Karin!” cries the youth, “Karin!” 

The bitter sorrow and despair of that tone 
might call the dead to life. It wakens Karin 
from her stupor, it is the chord of the old love 
vibrating upon the heart strings and she opens 
wide her eyes and looks at him. 

“Karin!” 

“Back, traitor!” Her features contract spas- 
modically, her outstretched hand motions him 
back with a gesture of contempt. 

Gustav Rosen might have thrown himself up- 
on Folkung and held him back. His arm is 
raised in the attempt, but his hand sinks down 
before Karin’§ look. It is his last, for her white 
dress vanishes, swallowed up in the darkness 
beyond the oaken door. Motionless as one 
whom the fire from heaven has struck, the youth 
braves the fierce countenances of the on-throng- 
ing valley-men. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


KARIN. 33 


The soldiers who follow him draw him hack 
and rush forward to protect his defenceless 
breast. The struggle rages now at this end of 
the narrow way, but here the Swedes gain the 
advantage, for though enclosed on either side, 
they succeed in forcing the Danes back to the 
outer door, and holding the entrance to the 
underground passage-way. The soldiers, im- 
agining them captive below, relax their effort. 
A dozen Dalecarlians lie transfixed by halberds 
among fully half hundred of the satillites of the 
king. But the others reach the massive door, 
which the last warrior fighting desperately closes 
behind him in its creaking hinges, and se- 
cures from within by a ponderous bolt. Then 
wounded and bleeding, but triumphant, he fol- 
lows the others -who speed through the long 
dark passage as if over burning coals. Many a 
life has been thus preserved in time of stress, 
and so it is now. The foremost, it is true, bears 
another burden than taat for which he had hoped. 
It should have been a man, and it is a girl, 
he should have worn upon his head the golden 
circlet of the Kingdoms of the North, and from 
Karin’s drooping brow there streams only a 
wreath of golden hair. But Gustav Folkung 
holds her in his arms as he would a queen. An 
angry muttering trembles through the deeps 
of the earth. The opening is reached where a 
few hours earlier the jackdaws had vanished 
into the ground. Folkung with bended knee 
forces away the stone, and as the keen outer 
air reaches the fugitives the deafening blast of 
the Trollhatta strikes simultaneously upon their 
ear. It rouses Karin who shivers in the chill 
air ot the May night. Gently as he would a 
child, her comrade wraps her in his cloak, and 
hurries up the stream. The others follow; a 
whistle, answered by a second one from the 
opposite bank of the Elf, and a broad dark mass 
moves rapidly across the river. It soon appears 
to be a large raft, which had been rowed from 
the lake to this spot. It touches the shore, 
Folkung springs in and deposits his burden on 
soft cushions in the bottom of the boat. S ten- 
bock enters after him with gloomy brow, and 
the Dalecarlians fill the boat. 

A sudden commotion, Karin turns and asks, 
“where is mother:” Sienbock utters a cry and 
a curse, “We have forgotten her, she is in the 
tyrant’s power. Back!” 

“Impossible!'’ answers the leaders firm voice, 
“it would be certain death and useless.” 

But Stenbock does not heed his words, and 
forcing his way through the boat’s crew, en- 
deavors to land. When suddenly a cry is heard. 


“Here they are— stop them — into the water — a 
boat!” 

It is Gustav Rosen, the only one who knows 
of the underground passage, and who, after the 
disappearance of the Dalecarlians, had gather- 
ed together a handful of soldiers, and rushed 
madly over the hillside to the Trollhatta. But 
he is again too late. Folkung commands im- 
peratively, “Forward!” Sweden is worth more 
than a woman, though she be Brita Stenbock.” 
The oars are plied and the boat shoots rapidly 
from the shore. The Danes raise their spears 
and are about to hurl them with deadly aim 
into the midst of the fugitives, but Rosen re- 
strains them with the terrified outcry, “no, you 
will kill her — no!” 

The soldiers obey wonderingly, then they 
press forward and detain by force the youth, 
who plunges into the water to follow the boat 
alone. They hold him fast, scornfully indiffer- 
ent to his heart-rending calls, “Karin! Karin!” 

The wailing cry is plainly heard out upon the 
stream. Not by Gustav Stenbock. His ear is 
deaf to it;his gray head is buried in his mantle 
to hide the hot, despairing tears which flow as 
fast as those of the young man, who has only 
lost what he had not yet possessed. But Fol- 
kung and Karin hear it. They hear the loud 
and hopeless lamentation. 

“Gustav Vasa, I will do as you command, 
give her back to me, Gustav Vasa!” 

“What name does that wretched one utter? 
Are you Gustav Ericlison?” 

“I am, Karin. You have learned it from your 
bridegroom’s farewell words.” Ho smiled bit- 
terly as he spoke, and advanced quickly before 
the girl to shield her from the spears which on 
a sudden came whizzing through the air, and 
fell with a hissing sound into the water about 
them. The Danes upon hearing the name of 
the fugitive leader, were no longer to be re- 
strained, and lanced their missiles now with 
cries of rage and fury. But the distance is too 
great, a few strokes of the oars, and the Dale- 
carlians are out of reach of danger. 

“Will you return to Gustav Rosen, Karin?” 
askes her comrade — “speak but the word, and I 
myself will lead you to him.” 

It is the same sharp tone with which he first 
accosted her by the Trollhatta, and yet it quivers 
like the rocking of the boat. 

Karin replies rapidly. “Never. There lies an 
abyss between us, as the Trollhatta between 
this and yonder shore. My heart belongs no 
longer to the betrayer of my people.” 

Gustav Erichson’s firm mouth trembles per- 
ceptibly. “But to him who lias liberated your 
country; Karin? Does your heart belong to him 


34 


KARIN. 


who saves Sweden from the tyranny of the Dane?” 

The girl trembles. She tries to answer, but 
at this, instant the boat jars roughly on the 
shore, she staggers back and would fall were it 
not for Gustav Vasa’s watchful arms. He holds 
her cold hand tightly in his, and whispers again 
in her ear. 

“Who can win this fair hand, Karin?” “This 
hand?” It has grown so light that you may see 
the pallor on the girl’s cheek change to glowing 
red; her lustrous eyes seek her father, who 
still sits immovably wrapped in his cloak. 
She repeats, “This hand?” 

Then she looks the man beside her full in the 
eyes and says. 

“This hand is free, Gustav Erichson, the 
Trollhatta is my witness, and belongs to him 
who accomplishes two things — ” 

The waters of the Trollhatta drown the hastily 
whispered words in their rushing. These are 
the waters of which the legend tells, that the 
ancient bard standiug on their brink, overpow- 
ered by the demoniac power of their thunder, 
was drawn irresistibly into their depths. 

Is she thinking of this as the cool morning 
air sends a shiver through her frame, and she 
looks at the fast-gliding green waves? Is she 
thinking of the words which were once wrung 
from her breast, 

“Be not weary, poor Gustav. If you should 
grow weary, and the stream had seized me, and 
it were too late for you to hold me back — ?” 

No, these eyes are earnest, but they neither 
think of the words nor of Gustav Rosen. Her 
companion’s eyes are earnest, too, since he has 
heard tne girl’s whisper. Bending low before 
Karin Stenbock, he speaks, 

“I said that Sweden was worth more than a 
woman. You are the first woman, Karin Sten- 
bock, who have shaken my resolve. Sweden’s 
future be upon you, if it be lost for the sake of 
a woman.” 

Again he bends before her with knightly grace, 
then he joins the Dalecarlians who have mean- 
while landed. Choosing out four from their 
number, he speaks with them in a lo‘w voice. 
The heart of the valley-men knows no fear, else 
might that look of the eye as they listen to his 
words betoken terror. But as fear is unknown 
to them, so also, is disobedience to their leader, 
and at his beck they hasten back to the boat, 
whilst Vasa approaches Stenbock and addresses 
him also in a low tone. At his words a gleam 
of joy lights up the face of the latter, and he 
makes a rapid movement in the direction of the 
boat. But Gustav Vasa holds him back, and 
continues to speak rapidly till Gustav Stenbock 


unwillingly acquiesces, and gives him finally a 
hearty Swedish hand-clasp. 

“They all must obey him,” thinks Karin, as 
she looks upon the proud and almost kingly 
bearing of the youthful leader, who swings him- 
self with his four chosen comrades into the boat, 
and stands erect among them, as they row up 
the stream. 

“They all must obey liini, as I do. He is like 
the Trollhatta.” 

Her musing is broken by a hand-wave from 
the receding boat. She beckons in return and 
calls impulsively, “Gustav!” Then suddenly 
recollecting, she adds, “Farewell, Gustav Vasa!” 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

The first pale light of day was struggling with 
the fitful Hare of the torches when Gustav Rosen 
returned to Torpa Castle. His feet carried him 
mechanically forward, his cheeks were hollow, 
his eyes dull and lustreless like one stricken 
with mortal disease. He walked on aimlessly, 
unconsciously returning to the scene of his hap- 
piness and of his misery. 

In the courtyard an officer met him, and in- 
formed him that the Icing had enquired several 
times for him. Taking Rosen by the arm, he 
led him up the stairs and into the room occu- 
pied by the monarch. 

It was plain to the initiated that King Christian 
was in an evil mood. In one corner of the room, 
surrounded by a guard of halberdiers, was a 
huddled group of the men and maidservants of 
the house of Stenbock, whom Christian, seated 
in an afmc'iair by the window, called up singly 
and examined. Their testimony was unanimous 
and truthful that they had known nothing of the 
projected attack upon the king, and that their 
surprise was as great as his own. The correct- 
ness of this statement was obvious, since in the 
tumult none had thought of flight, and after the 
escape ot the Dalecarlians they had surrendered 
unresistingly to the Danish soldiers. King 
Christian was likewise convinced ot the truth of 
their declarations, for he dismissed each with a 
friendly smile, saying, 

“You arc right. I perceive that your slum- 
bers were disturbed without cause. I will take 
care that it shall not happen again. Go!” 

He nodded, and the prisoner was led out. But 
as the unfortunates emerged from the door of 
the anteroom at the head of the stairs, the exe- 
cutioner’s axe descended from behind and 
severed the head from the bod}’, with such fatal 
rapidity that the unhappy victim was cut off with- 
out a cry, the trunk fell to earth, the head flew 


35 


KARIN. 


over the balustrade. One after another disap- 
peared iu this way, till -at last there was left but 
one maid. The game was already growing mo- 
notonous to Christian, lie rose and approached 
the window. Then turning to the girl, scruti- 
nized her fair youthful face, which, presenting 
the genuine Swedish national type, might have 
been taken for a materialized likeness of Karin 
Steubock. He looked keenly at her, and laughed 
louder than before. 

“At the foot of the stairs there are a dozen 
tool’s heads. If you wish to keep your own on 
your shoulders, wench, go, gather them into 
your apron and bring them to mo!” 

The girl swooned away. The king commanded 
her to be carried out and forced to execute his 
order. 

“The girl is like the daughter of the scoundrel 
Stonbock; mayhap a step-sister of whose exis- 
tence oiir good hostess dreams as little as of the 
heads which are rattling down her stairs,” whis- 
pered one of the king's suite to his neighbor. 

The speaker shrank back at an awful glance 
from Christian’s eye. At the same time the king 
rushed towards the door and seized the lxalf-un- 
conscious girl by the shoulder with a gi’ip like 
iron. He turned her head with a quick wrench 
and glared with brutal ferocity into her face. 

“He is right, it is the same breed,” he mut- 
tered, “that is the face that betrayed me.” 

And before the girl could fall upon her knees, 
King Christian II. of Sweden, Norway and Den- 
mark had snatched a sword from a soldier 
standing by, and hewn the head of the newly 
pardoned girl from the body. It rolied with its 
masses of flaxen hair to the : ground. At this 
moment Gustav Rosen entered the hall. The 
king’s watchful eye espied him at once, and, 
laughing loudly, he advanced to meet the youth. 

“Yonder lies your fair one’s head, Rosen, kiss 
it!” he cried. 

The young man’s senses were so disordered 
that the sight .of the blonde-haired head with 
that likeness still strong in death, almost over- 
powered him. But Christian’s boisterous mer- 
riment recalled him to consciousness. 

“It is not she this time,” continued the king, 
“the Rose of Trollhatta has escaped us both — a 
curse upon it!” The veins upon his forehead 
swelled almost to bursting, and he stamped up- 
on the ground till the house shook and the 
lookers-on shrank back trembling. “Who is the 
knave who let her escape? You are all traitors 
who should be drawn and quartered.” 

No one ventured a word. The monarch’s face 
was hideously distorted; like one seized with 
sudden madness he raised his sword from the 
floor where he had thrown it and brandished it 


whizzing through the air close upon the terrified 
Danes. They had seen him so but once before, 
and that was after the death of the Dove of Am- 
sterdam, who, rumor said, had been poisoned 
under connivance of Torbeu Oxe. And this 
wild phrensv took possession of him, it was 
clear, not when his royal authority had been de- 
fied, but when one hidden chord, unknown to 
men, was struck in his heart. Not Gustav Erich- 
son. but Karin Steubock it was, who had height- 
ened his fury to madness. Gradually, as his 
passion met with no resistance, it subsided. He 
took his sword blade and holding it for a mo- 
ment between his fingers, surveyed the blood 
upon it, 'then seated ltimself stolidly in the arm- 
chair, rested his hand upon the hilt of his sword 
and said, 

“Lead in Brita Stcnbock!” 

— 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

Some moments elapsed before she whom he 
demanded appeared. Her arms were laden 
with heavy chains, such as the Dane-prince car- 
ried upon all his travels. But she wore them 
like impalpable things; not a muscle of her face 
bespoke fear or emotion. At the sight Gustav 
Rosen reeled for support against a pillar, his 
eyes rested in horror upon his aunt’s motionless 
face, and a deep flush crept up to his temples 
with the consciousness of his guilt. For some 
seconds there was deathly stillness in the great 
hall in whose centre stood Brita Stonbock, 
proudly erect. At length she broke the silence, 
and asked in a clear voice, 

“Who has summoned me?” 

The king started. His looks had been bent 
upon the ground. “I, he answered unsteadily-.” 

“That is Christian of Denmark’s voice.” To 
look at him one would have fancied that the 
blind orbs of his implacable enemy had regained 
their sight, so timidly did ho avoid the direction 
in which they were set. Again there was a 
pause, then suddenly he ordered, 

“Remove her chains!” 

The halberdiers obeyed exchanging looks of 
surprise. The king rose and advanced hesita- 
tingly some stops towards her, 

“Brita Stenbock, you would have murdered 
me?” 

“I would have executed sentence upon you; 
murder you,” she returned coldly. 

Could ho, whom all feared, be afraid of a wo- 
man? He fixed bis eyes .anxiously on her face, 
he had no dominion over Brita Stenbock’s sight- 
less eyes. 

“You bade me as a guest to your houso, I 


36 


KARIN. 


trusted in Swedish hospitality,” he went on 
slowly. 

“You bade the nobility of Sweden to your cas- 
tle at Stockholm, they trusted in Danish hospi- 
tality.” 

Christian . cast down his eyes. Was it ex- 
haustion after the wild uproar? His lips qui- 
vered, he nerved himself with difficulty to 
proceed. 

“You gave me your hand and welcomed me to 
your home, Brita Stenbock.” 

“You gave your hand to each of your victims 
and welcomed those you were about to murder. 
I thanked you in my country’s name, and said I 
trusted that your sojourn in this house would be 
for Sweden’s welfare. You drank to the health 
of my house and I to Sweden’s health. Why 
were you blind to the meaning of my words? 
Why was your clear vision obscured by blind- 
ness?” 

There was disdain in her word and accent; 
the Danes looked in breathless amazement from 
the fearless woman to their king, whose altered 
face wore a look of strange dread. He raised 
his hand to his brow and attempted to speak, 
tut his breath came hard and his tongue was 
heavy as he said, 

“It is force against force, cunning against cun- 
ning. You hate me, and you are right, Brita 
Stenbock. Between us men there is strife and 
intrigue, and I hold you as a man. You have 
fought bravely, I recognize this, and honor you 
for it the more. Tell me truly — your mind con- 
ceived the plan and you alone knew of it. You 
laid the snare cautiously, unaided and alone. 
Say yes, and I will reward the greatness of the 
act, and you are free.” 

A hundred eyes are bent upon Brita Stenbock. 
In all the seeing throng has she alone the gift of 
sight? The keen eye to discern the one spot in 
the meshes of his coat of mail where a sharp 
dagger might be driven through to the heart, to 
the stony heart’s core of her mortal enemy? 

The blind woman's face lights up with a mock- 
ing, triumphant smile. 

“No, Christian of Donmark, you esteem me 
beyond my due. The advice alone was mine, 
but neither the plan nor the execution. You 
were outwitted by a girl; my daughter con- 
ceived the plan. She did not know you, nor ex- 
pect that you would lead an army to a marriage- 
feast. There should have been a battle at Torpa, 
and you should have been judged before the 
altar. But when my daughter beheld the num- 
bers of your followers — ” 

King Christian’s hand drooped over his eyes. 


“When your daughter beheld the numbers of 
my followers—” he repeated in a strangely bro- 
ken voice. 

“She came to me and said, Christian of Den- 
mark is not only a tyrant, he is a fool as well. 
Is it worth the price of Sweden’s liberty and his 
ruin, mother, that for one evening I play the 
role of the Bergen innkeeper’s daughter?” 

Even Brita Stenbock started back in affright at 
the fierce, agonizing gioan which broke from the 
king’s lips as he fell back into his chair and 
covered his face with his hands. The inmates 
of the room almost ceased to breathe. Heavy 
drops like the blood which stained the floor 
rolled from beneath the royal hand to the ground; 
it was so still that their falling was audible. 
Then his hands relaxed and tightened again in 
convulsive grasp over his sword-hilt, which he 
wrenched from its hold in the floor. And King 
Christian laughed loudly as he said, 

“Your story is well told, Brita Stenbock, but 
time will not admit of our listening longer. So 
we, the Tyrants, have undermined Swedish hos- 
pitality, Swedish faith and manly honor? YY>u 
are right again, we were fools.” 

“You may scoff, Christian,” broke in the aged 
woman fearlessly, “but I have probed you. 
My eyes are blind and others may think you 
smile. I see you, I see your heart, and know 
how it bleeds under my hand.” 

The king lifts his sword, and with a fierce 
outcry rushes upon the defenceless woman. A 
moment more, and the girl’s fate would have 
been hers, and the grey head have lain by the 
flaxen. But this time Gustav Rosen sprang sud- 
denly forward and caught the all but fatal blow 
upon his arm. For a moment Christian stood 
motionless, and glared at the youth’s pallid face. 
Then dropping the sword from his bended fin- 
gers, he said frostily, 

“I thank you, Rosen. You have lost a bride 
through me, I will provide you with another. 
Are you ready, Brita Stenbock?” 

The meaning of the last question lay not in 
the words, but the tone. All understood, not 
less she to whom it was addressed. But there 
was no shrinking, no faltering. She lifted her 
head proudly. “You do not judge me, Christian, 
you but kill me. Death has for me no terrors, 
and of what does it avail you? Your sword 
may rob me of life, but the spirit of this race 
you cannot quench. My eyes are blind, but 
through their night the future is visible to me. 
The day is near when all Sweden will be a Tor- 
pa; I see more bloodshed than has flowed into 
the Malar, but it rolls on to the Hound and is 
blight with the glare of myriads of torches. 


KARIN. 37 


In their light I see you, Christian of Denmark, 
powerless, lorsaken, execrated and abhorred. I 
see you bowed under the maledictions of your 
people, laden with the scorn of humanity, beat- 
ing with ghastly brow against your prison bars. 
I see the mocking shapes of your victims taunt- 
ing you with your evil deeds and the throne you 
cannot hold. Then shall the Trollhatta shout 
the paian of Sweden's liberty, and every ear 
shall hear it as I do now.” 

She spoke with majestically uplifted arm, and 
as she ceased the Trollhatta responded with its 
distant thunder, and it seemed to all present as 
though its surging waves announced that the 
last ice of the Winter was broken and that Spring 
was at hand. 

King Christian also listened for a moment. 
But it was with the old face of evil presage over 
whose sphinx-like stolidity the treacherous 
smile flitted like the deceptive fire of the ignis 
fatuus. 

“Your eyes are stili too keen, Brita Stenbock, 
they look too far into the future,” he said scoft- 
ingly. “I will place a light for you that you may 
perceive what is near. I will erect a vast monu- 
ment in your memory, around which the Troll- 
hatta shall rage no more; for it is mine, and its 
waters shall flow m future as peacefully and 
smoothly under my hand as your people. The 
spirit of this race shall not spread abroad 
through the land, and Sweden shall not become 
a Torpa, tor the great torch you beheld is Torpa, 
in whose light you shall lie powerless and for- 
saken. 

No. not forsaken utterly — ’’King Christian 
turned hastily— “I said I owed you thanks, Gus- 
tav Rosen, for reminding me of what befits the 
king and what the hangman. You will compre- 
hend that it is out of my power to present your 
young bride to you at this moment, but I have 
come to your marriage, and for a few fiery in- 
stants perhaps an old one, one too of the same 
noble blood will suffice.— Captain Wolmarson!” 

The officer approached and Christian whis- 
pered a few hurried words in his ear. Again he 
turned towards Rosen. 

“Your estates shall be well cared for, have no 
fear, Rosen; my thanks for them.” And with a 
lightning glance at Brita Stenbock’s unmoved 
face, the king left the apartment. Horns sound- 
ed for the departure, in a few moments the court 
Avas tilled Avith horsemen, and the sovereign gave 
the order for march. Five ready saddled 
horses still waited at the door, those of Captain 
Wolmarson and his band. 

The latter are not soldiers, they are the as- 
sistants of the man Avho noAv throws off his long 
red mantle, disclosing beneath a tight-fitting 


Avaistcoat, and proceeds to bind Gustav Rosen’s 
hands roughly behind his back. Though it may 
cost him his head if King Christian hear of it, 
the officer standing by cannot suppress a shud- 
der as the men Avith coarse jests fetter Brita 
Stenbock hand and foot, and chain her together 
Avith the youth fast to the altar, which Avas 
destined for him for another solemnity. And 
now it is finished, and the chief as he strides 
away calls, 

“The bridal pair is ready. A proper bride- 
groom, a fair bride. Call the parson to pro- 
nounce a blessing.” 

One of the attendants springs to the kitchen 
and returns quickly. With a horrid laugh, he 
divides his burden among his follows, and they 
disperse through ihe rooms adjoining the hall. 
The Danish captain rushes down horrorstruck 
into the open air and tliroAvs himself upon his 
horse, five minutes later the others follow and 
gallop rapidly aAvay. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

Again there is the silence of the grave in Tor- 
pa Castle, silent as at that ominous hour Avhen 
Karin stood Avaiting for the Dane King in her 
chamber. The first rays of the sun flamed upon 
the gray gables, and through the tall, leafless 
elms — but the stillness of death reigned in the 
Castle. Still and dead lay the heaped-up bodies 
of friend and foe; the headless trunks upon the 
bloodstained staircase looked Avith staring, wide- 
opened eyes before them. Not a sound of life, 
of joy or of soitoav. 

A cry of anguish Avould have been a god-sent 
boon in that horrible silence, Avhicli Avas only 
broken, first here, then there, by a strange, Ioav 
crackling, as if by some mysterious, unearthly 
medium the Avails Avcre beginning to crumble. 

Then a human voice sounds through the deso- 
lation, “Mother, do you hear?” 

It is Gustav Rosen’s voice as he vainly strives 
to loose his bands. But his fettered arms fall 
poworlessly at his side. 

Brita Stenbock hears, but her answer is as 
stern as though he stood before her a youthful 
culprit awaiting punishment. 

“I am no mother of yours, Gustav Rosen, and 
I thank heaven I Avas spared that shame. Rather 
this bridal torch Avhicli Christian of Denmark 
has lighted than at this altar to have given my 
daughter into your perfidious hands. My blood 
and the blood of the brave ones who fell yonder 
for SAveden’s liberty be upon you!” 

The crackling increases and rolls like the voice 
of the storm through the halls, a sound as if the 


38 


K A R I N. 


fallen dead liad risen and were groping with 
heavy tread among the corpses of their fellows 
to waken them as well. 

“Mother,” cries the youth passionately, “you 
are Karin’s mother. Give me farewell in her 
name. In a moment we go together where there 
is neither Swede nor Dane, but where forgive- 
ness, mercy and love abide forever. Be merci- 
ful, mother!” 

A tremor shook the strong woman’s frame. 
She struggled in vain to tree her arm, and 
turned her blind eyes in the direction of the 
supplicant. Then a milder look overspread her 
stern face and she said gently, 

“Your spirit did not belong to this harsh 
world; Heaven will forgive you, as Karin does, 
as I do. Sleep in peace, Gustav.” 

Upon an overlooking height, some five hun- 
dred steps distant from Torpa, King Christian 
II. and his faitnful followers draw rein. His 
piercing eye rests with an expression of impa- 
tience upon the sun-gilded castle. But not long, 
and the brow clears, a rosy vapor rises from the 
ridge of the great building. It comes from with- 
in, and is followed ever fast and faster by dark, 
thick smoke-masses with occasional flashes like 
summer lightning. The west side of the castle 
lies in shadow, whilst the windows at the east- 
ern exposure glitter in the sun; but now they 
flame up on a sudden on every side. Long, forky 
tongues leap out and up and stretch forth my- 
riads of lurid arms to encircle the castle walls. 
Then the flame bursts from the roof, the south- 
ern gable totters and falls in with a mighty crash; 
it is followed by an ascending shower of sparks 
which fill the air with fiery particles. They 
whirl about like shining meteors and descend in 
a broad circuit, mingling with the spray of the 
Trollhatta and dropping at the feet of the Danes 
who are silent witnesses of the scene. 

Nothing, no vestige of life approachod the 
conflagration. The birds are startled from the 
elm-tops, but that is all. King Christian’s eye 
is fixed with falcon glance upon the entrance 
and the grounds which surround the castle. 
The dead may not flee, nor the living break their 
fetters. Not till the roof falls in with a loud 
detonation is the royal eye removed. The close- 
shut lips smile hideously as he says, 

“That was your giant torch, good night, Brita 
Stenbock!” 

He drives the spur into the flanks of his black 
horse till it rears upright. “The wedding is 
over. The merry-making at Torpa passed off 
well; resume yo.ur work again, ‘godfather.’ 
Keep near me. Forward!” 

A moment after these last spectators have 
vanished, and the burning house stands like a 


forsaken spirit encircled by the smiling beams 
of the Spring sun — like the last fond kiss of that 
love which had silently grown and ripened 
there through many a year, till the storm came, 
and fanned the flames, and changed it in anight 
to ashes. 

Yet the storm spends its might, and the fire 
its fury. But the sun is eternal, Karin, it re- 
turns each spring, and is new every morning. 

King Christian II. was right. Before night- 
fall, Torpa will have passed away from the sur- 
face of the earth. But Brita Stenbock has spo- 
ken truer. Fire and sword cannot quench the 
spirits either of hate or love. And Torpa lies 
embalmed in these, as if it still stood and gazed 
upon the Trollhatta. It is not effaced from Swe- 
dish soil nor from Swedish hearts, Karin, for 
Torpa is eternal, as the sun. 

Now the evening has come again, and clouds 
of dense, suffocating smoke rise from the 
smouldering ruins. Again the jackdaws cross 
the Gotaelf, but this time only five emerge from 
the fissure in the rock where they have tarried 
for the night. They cross in a northerly di- 
rection. The moon scatters its pale beams over 
the water as the boat jars again at the same 
landing from whence Karin looking back had 
cried, “Farewell, Gustav Vasa!” 

He has fared well. As he stepped from the 
tottering boat to the shore he recalled the words, 
but he cried instead, “Farewell, Gustav ltosen!” 

“Farewell, Gustav!” — 30 said Gustav Erichson, 
so said Brita Stenbock. Both grasp his hand at 
parting — death has hold it in his and purged it 
from its stains. 

“Farewell!” He stands forsaken and listens 
to the footsteps dying away into the night. They 
echo ever fainter and fainter like the last mes- 
sage from an ended life, and are lost in the 
rushing of the falls. 

He who would forget does well to sit upon the 
brink of the Trollhatta where the falling waters 
deaden memory. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

A few short weeks have passed, but the domi- 
nion of winter is overthrown. Spring has come, 
not from the south, but from the north, from the 
rocky valleys of Dalecarlia. The Spring is 
named Gustav Vasa. 

From lake to mountain there is none to rescue 
Sweden save him. The nobility is crushed, and 
it is well that its power is crippled, and it is un- 
able to hinder with petty jealousy the emanci- 
pation of the land. There is a clash of arms in 
the cities where Christian’s mercenaries oppress 
the townsfolk with heavy hand. 


KARIN. 


39 


A broad tract between Copenhagen and Stock- 
holm lies waste, the villages are burned, the in- 
habitants have fallen in battle, tied, or been put 
to death. The gallows and wheel mark the pro- 
gress of the ruler of the northern realms since 
leaving Torpa. 

His sickle Death is laid upon the awakening 
fields, it cuts down high and low, whatsoever 
comes in its way, without mercy. As each head 
falls, King Christian casts his evil eye abroad 
for its successor. 

There is none to rescue Sweden save the peo- 
ple, the stiffnecked peasant folk of the moun- 
tains. Therefore have they gathered together 
from the mountains and valleys of Dalecarlia 
and under the open sky upon the great meadow 
which the Spriug has strewn with primroses 
they proclaim Gustav Vasa “their own and the 
Swedish people’s leader and chief.” 

Down from the hills came Gustav Yasa. With 
hundreds of followers lie crossed the Dal-Elf, 
and thousands more flocked to his standard, for 
Spring had come. At Brunnback’s Ford he met 
the treacherous Archbishop Trollc, and the ar- 
rows of his mountaineers smote hard upon the 
well armed knights. Red rolled the waves of 
the Dal-Elf into the Botlinian Gulf, it was the 
first retribution of the Stockholm massacre, and 
Gustav Erichson pressed rapidly on to the South. 

“I said at Torpa, King Christian, that we 
should meet again; you shall see my face before 
the Sound lies between you and Sweden — ” this 
was the message sent by a horseman to the 
Dane King. But ere this was nailed secretly by 
night upon Christian’s castle-gate, Gustav Yasa 
had routed the Danes a second time at Wcsteras, 
and laid siege to the city, no longer with a troop 
of peasants, but with an army of many thousands. 
The place was defended by Slaghoek, the former 
barber and father confessor of the Dane King. 
This also was stormed by the peasants. Then 
when the summer sun stood highest, and day 
and night met, Upsala, the ancient city of kings, 
surrendered to Gustav Vasa. 

Here he rested. The fiery enthusiasm of his 
followers was admirable in hand to hand en- 
counters with the Danish troops, but their un- 
skilled strength was inadequate to tiio tedious 
and prolonged siege of a stronghold like Stock- 
holm. They lacked military discipline and drill 
of arms. Their weapons were farm implements 
and hunting-pieces, the axe which had felled the 
trees upon their native mountains, the bow and 
the sling which brought down the grouse, the 
pike which defended their flocks from thievish 
wolf or bear. But Gustav Erichson’s eye and 
hand were ever active. Relying upon the pro 
mise of aid which Lttbeck had once given, he 


demanded firearms from the Hanseatic city, 
and himself taught the ignorant valley-men the 

use of the heavy musket. He chose out leaders 
to traverse the land in every direction and urge 
the inhabitants to action and to collect troops. 
Scattered detachments united successfully in at- 
tacks on the Danish garrisons of the smaller 
towns. The plains were soon completely en- 
franchised, and Christian’s generals forced to 
retire into the fortified towns, more especially 
the seaports, which like Stockholm were kept 
supplied by the fleet with men and provisions. 
Brita Stenbock was right, in a few short weeks 
all Sweden had become a Torpa, and King 
Christian gnashed his teeth as he looked across 
the Sound from his palace in Copenhagen, 
whither he had been forced to return, by revolts, 
stirred up by discontented nobles in his absence. 

Each of the scattered bands which had fought 
singly for Sweden’s liberty throughout the land, 
now placed themselves willingly under Gustav 
Vasa’s leadership, and acknowledged him as 
“their own and the Swedish people’s leader 
and chief.” 

Thus all centred in Upsala, the old city of the 
kings, where in the gray past the mighty race of 
Ynglings had dwelt. It stood no more on its 
former sight, but a league farther eastward; only 
a little village hidden by lime-trees marked the 
spot where the ruins of the former Queen of the 
North lay mouldering under trees and vines. A 
venerable church with a square tower of mas- 
sive granite blocks rose above the houses, a 
Runic stone erected in the choir spoke the 
strange and to the living no longer comprehen- 
sible language of the past. Hard by the church 
were three high-heaped mounds, the “King’s 
Mounds,” still known in the mouth of the peo- 
ple as Thor, Ereya, and Odin; giant tombs pos- 
sibly of the Ynglings, mythical reminders of the 
age when the gods of Wallialia descended to 
found empires and embrace the fair daughters 
of men. But now the north wind whistles 
through the beech-tops on their summits, and 
scatters the ieatage upon the rough hewn blocks 
below the granite pillows upon which the grim 
heroes repose — which lean against the sides of 
their chamber of sleep. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

Boated upon one of (hose stones, and looking 
eastward through the branches, one might pe r- 
ceive the great cathedrai of Upsala, betraying 
at first sight the strong Old Gothic hand of its 
builder. Its twin towers soared above the 
gloomy “Skog,” the primeval forest which co- 


40 


K AKIN. 


vered the plain with a confused mass of firs 
and pines, alders and birches. 

At intervals, a glimpse might be had of the 
highway leading from Old Upsala to the new 
city, and blocks of granite and red porphyry 
were weirdly heaped upon the gray, rocky soil, 
some naked, some overgrown with moss. Here 
and there a lofty fern nodded sad and lonely in 
a fissure of the rocks. But the sweltering sun 
of midsummer defied the north and made the 
way seem long to the noonday wayfarer, though 
he might easily reach in an hour the square be- 
fore the cathedral in Upsala. The great nave of 
the church was exalted above the one-storied 
houses of the town like a giant among dwarfs. 
They were mostly of wood, and the roofs were 
ornamented with green birch-bark. Upsala, 
where half a century before Sten Sture the El- 
der had founded the first Swedish university, 
was dull of aspect like the North. For its halls 
had been deserted for many a long year; science 
was silenced by the clash of arms, and the city 
of the kings, robbed of its former and latter 
glory, clustered mournfully about the cathedral, 
the one enduring monument of its illustrious 
past. Grass grew in the streets which had once 
been trodden by the feet of students, hastening 
rather from, than to the founts of wisdom; the 
few inhabitants hurried through the town with 
timid greetings. 

Thus it had been a few weeks before, but one 
month of summer had wrought marvellous 
change. It decked field and forest with brilliant 
green, and altered like magic the city’s wintry 
aspect. The streets were thronged with forms 
and faces of most varied type. The Dalecar- 
lians with bony foreheads shaded by masses of 
straight-falling yellow hair, seemed to overtop 
the lower houses. Less angular and more 
comely were the sons of Gotland and Inger- 
mannland. Easy to distinguish were the quick, 
receptive features of the town-bred man, who 
had seen the world and its phases beyond the 
Baltic, and learned the finer German customs. 
The latter, conspicuous in the throng for rich 
apparel, eagerly sought the company of certain 
portly, keen-eyed men, whose speech and man- 
ner bespoke foreigners. 

These were the gentlemen from Lubeck, en- 
voys of the Hanseatic League, who had landed 
with their ships at Norrtelge, bringing supplies 
of arms to the successful opponent of their old 
enemy and rival in the Baltic. Their purpose, 
moreover, was to inform themselves of the im- 
portance and extent of the Swedish uprising, 
and of the character of its leader-in-chief. They 
had come with keen, measured reserve, speak- 


ing little, weighing and balancing; but the popu- 
lar enthusiasm was infectious, and the reports, 
which found their way back to the Travc, ex- 
pressed no doubt of the success of a cause which 
lay in Gustav Ericlison’s hand. They were fre- 
quently seen in public at the latter’s side; ofteu- 
er still, at nightfall, they crossed the threshold 
of his simple home whence they seldom re-issued 
before daybreak. At other times they mingled 
with him among the people, and admired, with 
scarce a tradesman’s eye, the trim, full-necked 
peasant girls with their deep blue eyes and 
flaxen plaits wound about their heads, who 
pushed their way through the crowds and laugh- 
ingly accepted many an over-bold flattery, which 
on an occasion of less universal joy would have 
been repulsed with a fearless and vigorous 
hand. 

The fields, in the vicinity of the town, were 
converted by day into a camp, glittering with 
arms, in the handling of which Gustav Vasa in- 
structed his eager followers in person. The 
horsemen displayed their skill upon short- 
maned, under-sized horses of incredible en- 
durance, and the new firearms resounded from 
morning to night, to the gaping astonishment of 
the old men, for the generous policy of the gen- 
tlemen from Lubeck was not restricted to the 
supply of muskets, but included an extensive 
store of ammunition, an outlay which at that 
time was very considerable. 

A more difficult matter in Upsala was the ac- 
comodation of the countless warlike and unwar- 
like guests from the north and from the south. 
But each inhabitant gladly offered a corner of 
his dwelling for the reception of the warriors. 
A spirit of exemplary order, of honesty and so- 
briety ruled in the over-crowded city. At 
evening time, when the martial exercises of the 
day were over, the air was full of music and 
singing. Those were the nights when an hour 
before midnight the sun stood, still golden, 
above the horizon. But song and tumult were 
stilled, every head was bared, women raised 
their children in their arms, girls pressed eager- 
ly forward, and the hearts of the aged were 
gladdened, when Gustav Vasa’s imposing figure 
passed through the streets. 

So it was now. Though simply clad and not 
taller than his attendants, there was a nameless 
something by which even a stranger must have 
singled out Gustav Vasa, at first glance, from 
among his companions. It was the same face 
which had confronted Karin Stenbock that No- 
vember evening by the Trollliatta, only with a 
more thoughtful brow, seamed and shaded here 
and there despite his youth with light furrows. 


KARIN. 


41 


Upon the right side a wound stretched down to 
the temple, a broad scar, one evidently not 
made by a sharp steel. It appeared rather to 
be seared as was the hair about it. But it did 
not impair the manly beauty of the face, it 
heightened instead tne impressive decision of 
the features. His eyes reflected worlds, — or 
concealed them, if their owner so inclined. No 
one pierced the depths of those eyes, neither 
the ingenuous, true hearted Dalecarlians, nor 
the shrewd German diplomats. Whoever 
thought he had penetrated Gustav Erichson’s 
most secret thoughts found himself many a 
time deceived. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Thus it was with his attendants on this after- 
noon, as they halted beside him at the north 
end of the city fully an hour, whilst he, the ever 
active, sat motionless in his saddle, watching in 
the sultry July heat the road from Gefle. He 
must be expecting weighty news from the sea- 
port in question, for he, who barely allowed 
himself time for necessary rest, seemed now all 
unheeding of the passing moments. His com- 
panions exchanged whispered surmises as to 
the object of his delay. Could it be a message 
from Russia or the announcement of the arrival 
of forces from Liibeck? True, the Hanseatic 
gentlemen knew nothing ot such a project, but 
those inscrutable eyes of the young commander 
might harbor many plans without their knowl- 
edge or intervention. Therefore they waited no 
less expectantly than their chief, and patiently 
scanned the sunny road leading from Gefle. 

Suddenly there was an almost imperceptible 
lighting of Gustav Vasa’s eye, a moment later, 
the others perceived a dark spot on the horizon. 
As it came nearer over the dusty highway, and 
gradually increased in size, they found it to be 
an open travelling carriage, a rare appearance 
at that day and in that country. It was drawn 
by clumsy horses and occupied by two women, 
the one with iron-gray hair met the blinding 
glare of the sun with strange, unflinching eyes; 
the other, whose hair clustered like the sun- 
light itself above her white brow, cast her eyes 
down and turned away with studied care. The 
carriage rolled on past the waiting horsemen. 
Some turned their eyes with indifferent curiosity 
upon its inmates, others continued their low 
conversation, but Gustav Vasa* with a rapid 
movement, lifted his hat and bent low over, his 
horse’s neck. 

In an instant every head was uncovered, and 
every eye was rivetted upon the young girl, the 


recipient of this extraordinary distinction from 
their commander. With a deep blush the girl 
bowed in recognition, and her exquisite face and 
deep blue eyes were lifted for a moment to meet 
the rider’s earnest gaze. The carriage rolled on 
without stopping. Turning his horse, Gustav 
Vasa rode silently back to the town. 

It was evident that the object of his coming 
was attained. Gustav Vasa had spent hours, 
to be able to salute a girl and receive a smile in 
return. The news spread like wildfire through 
the city; this time it was the province of the 
women to surmise and speculate thereupon.. 
But no one knew who the beautiful stranger 
might be, or whither she went. It was reported 
that the wagon had passed through the out- 
skirts of the town and taken the road to old Up- 
sala. 

At an early hour in the afternoon, it reached 
the place in question, and drew up before a 
house of cheerful exterior, and more generous 
proportions than its neighbors, close under the 
shadow of the ancient churcli-tower. A number 
of men and maid servants were grouped about 
the entrance and received the travellers in re- 
spectful silence. Brita Stenbock alighted, and 
leaning upon her daughter’s arm, entered the 
house. 

Had Gustav Vasa’s inscrutable eyes penetrated 
thus far? Every appointment showed solicitous 
attention to the comfort of the future inmates. 
Though less commodious than Torpa, it was 
luxurious and unlike the severe simplicity of 
the north. The furniture and the rich and cost- 
lv hangings were not of Swedish manufacture. 
They betokened the wealth and enterprise of a 
great commercial seaport. Had Gustav Vasa in 
his demands for arms and ammunition for Swe- 
den’s liberation still been mindful of a garden 
for the Rose which he had so rudely plucked 
from its native soil? 

This garden, in truth, better befitted the Rose 
than the inhospitable wilds through which she 
had wandered since the night when she had 
flown with the jackdaws over the Gota Elf. Since 
that farewell across the water she had not again 
seen Gustav Vasa. Horses were In readiness, 
and her father had lifted her before him on his 
saddle. They had ridden by night, and by day 
found willing shelter in remote peasant huts, 
whose inmates were awaiting their coming. 
Thus they had reached the wild and jagged 
mountain clnflln which divides Sweden from 
Norway. But they were not yet in safety; com- 
mands had been issued to the Danish garrisons 
in every city to be on the watch, and the king 
himself had offered a high reward “for r .he head' 


KARIN. 


of Karin Stenbock, dead or alive.” They were 
therefore forced to take their way through the 
deep snows of the mountains towards the north. 
It was toilsome journeying, which well-nigh 
exhausted the strength of the men, but Karin 
seemed proof against weariness, cold and depri- 
vation. The peasants looked with open-eyed 
wonder upon the slight girlish figure, which de- 
fied the assaults of the weather and the rough 
country, and many, who had turned a deal ear 
to the exhortations of the men, would at a few in- 
spired words from Karin’s lips, throw aside axe 
and plow and journey to Dalecarlia, where the 
liberators of Sweden were gathering. 

“I summon you in the uame of Gustav Vasa,” 
said Karin with glowing cheeks. Then they 
journeyed on. When they reached vast deserted 
valleys, where they had no company hut their 
own thoughts, it was indeed a sad and mournful 
band. Of what had passed at Torpa after their 
flight, and of the fate of the blind wife and mother 
at the cruel hands of Christian, they knew naught. 
Not till the Clara-Elf was reached were they over- 
taken by a messenger with tidings of the rescue 
of Brita Stenbock, who had also fled to the 
north. 

M#M 

CHAPTER XXXIY 

Karin listened shuddering to the messenger’s 
tale, how Gustav Yasa and his four companions 
had held themselves concealed in the under- 
ground passage till the Danes should withdraw, 
and how the former at last, goaded on by sus- 
pense, had at the risk of his life forced his way 
through the passage and lain m a listening atti- 
tude among the heaped-up bodies of the slain. 
But he could gain no intimation of that which 
was to follow. He only heard that Brita Sten- 
bock and Gustav Rosen were to be pinioned and 
left behind. Then from below came the sounds 
of the king’s departure, and at the same moment 
he became aware of the glare of tho torches, 
which approached nearer and nearer till he felt 
the heavy tread of an iron-shod foot upon his 
breast, the walls crackled and the passage was 
filled with blinding smoke. He sprang up reck- 
less of dan er and forced open the door of the 
hall. The altar and the motionless figures 
chained before it were barely visible 
through the smoke; a moment more, and his 
sword would have severed their bonds in vain, 

m 

and his arms with Gustav Rosen s aid would 
have borne Brita Stenbock a lifeless burden 
through the blazing passage-way. Burning raf- 
ters crumbled behind them, and a falling beam 
struck Gustav Vasa heavily upon the head, but 


he gained the rescuing door which led into the 
ground, and reaching with his burden the spot 
where his faithful Dalecarlians were anxiously 
awaiting his return, he sank, overcome by his 
superhuman efforts, unconscious to earth. An 
eternity elapsed before they were able to emerge, 
under cover of the night, and, unperceived 
and unmolested, regain the Gota-Elf,from whence 
they passed into Lake Wener. 

Stenbock and his daughter listened with tears 
of joy and sorrow. Their home had vanished 
from the earth, their eyes henceforth should be 
blind as Brita Stenboek’s, for that sight, and 
never more behold Torpa. But what was Torpa 
weighed against Sweden’s liberty. Sweden was 
now their home. To Karin there came a pro- 
phetic voice telling her that her lot should no 
longer be linked to the narrow scenes of her 
childhood’s dreams, but that her whole great 
Sweden itself, should be her home. 

And what was the ruin of a house compared 
with the life of the mother, whom they had 
counted lost, whom Gustav Vasa at peril of his 
own life had rescued? 

A deep flush mantled the girl’s cheek at the 
thought. Was she pondering the words which 
the Trollliatta had witnessed, 

“This hand is free, Gustav Erichson, and be- 
longs to him who accomplishes two things?” 

And Gustav Vasa as he sprang into the boat 
had answered, “Sweden’s future be upon you, 
if it be lost for the sake of a woman.” 

Had he accomplished one of the two things? 
The throbbing blood in Karin’s cheeks answered, 
“Yes.” And the second? Could he also accom- 
plish this? 

And when he had, when he came and said, 
“It is done, Karin,” — what then? 

Then his right was clear and undisputed to 
the reward which those other eyes had promised, 
to the hand to which he aspired. Why not? — 
The light of the eyes which mirrored the heart 
is extinguished. Not a ray shot from them when 
the messenger announced Gustav Rosen’s fate, 
the lips were mute in words of sympathy. The 
eyes are extinguished like the flames of Torpa, 
and the heart has turned to ashes like its ruins! 

But the fire smoulders long under the ashes, 
Karin, there is no fire visible to the looker-on, 
for the storm sweeping by holds the flame in 
check. But when it has spent its might, when 
the smoke wreaths pass, and peace returns, 
when summer breezes waft gently, gently over 
the ruined spot, then the slumbering embers 
wake once more. 

So Karin journeyed on at her father’s side 
through Sweden, and stirred the smouldering 
ashes to flame with the watchword, 


K A R 1 N. 


43 


“I summon you iu the name of Gustav Vasa, 
who shall liberate Sweden!” 

A burning flush and a deathly pallor would 
alternate on her cheek at the words. If Gustav 
Vasa should liberate Sweden was the second 
condition fulfilled? 

Not till Westernj-Dalecarlia was reached were 
Kariu and her mother reunited. Stenbock left 
them here, and joined the army which rallied 
around Gustav Erichson. Karin persisted wil- 
fully in her resolve to assume a masculine dis- 
guise and engage in the conflict. The care of 
her blind mother seemed to her a less sacred 
duty than this, which even her father’s opposi- 
tion could not shake. In this extremity her fa- 
ther appealed to Gustav Vasa and obtained from 
him the command for Karin to desist from her 
purpose. 

As commander-in-chief of Sweden, he wrote, 
he should exact implicit obedience from all who 
would aid the cause of the country. Further 
more, that he was in the act of fulfilling Karin’s 
request, and she should equally respect his 
wishes. He desired that she should proceed 
with her mother to Old Upsala, where a house 
was fitted to receive them. A carriage would be 
in waiting at Gefle, the exact hour of their de- 
parture and arrival at Upsala was prescribed. 
No detail from least to greatest was omitted by 
Gustav Vasa’s watchful care. 

Thus they arrived in Old Upsala at the house 
adjoining the church. There was nothing to al- 
ter, nothing to improve; every nook of the in- 
terior bespoke an almost feminine delicacy and 
care. If one chose to ponder the fact that 
it was the work of him who held in his hand the 
fate of Sweden, one must admit that the appoint- 
ments of the house in the shadow of the lime- 
trees betrayed more than forethought and re- 
finement, yes, more than gratitude and friend- 
ship. 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

Karin felt this as she wandered out towards 
evening into the open air. The afternoon had 
been passed in restless suspense, her eye had 
scarce left the road leading from Upsala. As if 
the tumult of the past weeks had unstrung her 
nerves, she started at every unexpected sound, 
at the opening of a door or a strange voice. Her 
unrest began to decline with the day, and she 
strolled out through the garden into the fields. 
She perceived with astonishment the three 
burial mounds which rose close before her, and 
enquired their names and meanings from an 


aged villager. Then, threading her way through 
the deep, flower-sown grass of the meadow, she 
thoughtfully climbed the Odin’s Hill, the cen 
tral mound. 

She seated herself upon a granite block which 
was still covered with last year’s foliage; it had 
perhaps once served as a sacrificial stone, apd 
tiie Runic inscription in the church would have 
told its history. It was a spot to forget the pre- 
sent, to live in the past and future. What was 
the weal or woe of the individual weighed against 
the rushing ebb and flow of the centuries? 
Whose voice echoed against the rock, before the 
giant oaks, which wave their crowns above it 
nightly, had sent their slender rootlets into the 
earth? Who in the ages to come, will know 
aught of this girl and of her high aspirations, 
who now rests upon it? Not for joy is life given 
to us, not for choice, but for duty. To serve . 
others and farther the right, albeit through strife 
and self-abnegation. 

Karin murmured the last words softly to her- 
self. It was late, but the sun still stood above 
the horizon. It cast a pale and greenish light 
in level rays across the silent valley. The pea- 
sants had gone to rest, for after a few hours the 
eastern glow would again rouse them to their 
labors. The little world about her was wrapped 
in slumber, while as yet illumined by a weird 
and sombre light. The gilt balls ofUpsala’s 
cathedral glinted across the dark firs into 
Karin’s dreamy eyes. 

“So thoughtful, Rose of Trollhatta?” asked a 
sudden voice behind her. 

She rose precipitately and stood facing Gustav 
Erichson. She had scarcely seen him since the 
evening when she conducted him through the 
subterranean passage at Torpa, and at the last 
moment had torn herself from his passionate 
embrace. Since then Fate had reversed their 
position; he had borne her unresistingly through 
the rescuing passage way. 

He had done far more — her glowing cheeks 
testified that all was present to her mind, yet 
she stood motionless as when his strong arm 
had rescued her that first time from the Troll- 
hatta. Her restless eye noted the scar upon his 
forehead and the noble manliness of his bearing, 
but her lips were mute. His brow contracted 
as it had then, the happy smile died from his 
face, and he asked in a hard, unsteady voice, 

“Still no word of thanks, Karin? Do you still 
refuse me your hand?” 

She misinterpreted his words. Her lips qui- 
vered as she answered in a broken and hardly 
audible tone, 

“Sweden is not yet free.” 


44 


KARIN. 


“You arc right, but you, at least, shall be so.” 
It was a tone of bitter reproach, of fearful sup- 
pressed passion. “He who stakes his life for 
the cause of liberty should look for no reward. 
Ke who strives for the liberty of a nation should 
not endanger that of the individual. I release 
you, Karin StenbocK, whether or no Sweden re- 
gains its freedom. Promises are lighter than air 
since Christian of Denmark visited Torpa. 
Farewell l” 

Before the girl could reply, he had turned on 
his heel, descended the Odin’s Hill, and mount- 
ing his horse which awaited him at the base, he 
gallopoed off in the direction of Upsala. Karin 
stood pale as death following him with her eyes. 
The horse plunged madly beneath the spurs of 
its usually merciful master. 

When Karin recovered her self-control the 
distance was too great, and her repentant cry, 
“Gustav Vasa!” was uttered to the air. A name- 
less horror oppressed her, the sleeping world 
and the night sun swam before her eyes. 

“Words are light as air since Christian of Den- 
mark visited Torpa,” she murmured, staggering 
back a few steps. Then her strength forsook 
her, and she fell with outstretched arms upon 
the ancient sacrificial stone. 

The next day found Karin again upon the hill- 
top, but Gustav Vasa did not return. Day after 
day she sat upon the Odin’s stone, looking with 
greatpnotionless eyes toward Upsala. The leaves 
rustled above her; each day was as a year. No 
news of the outer world reached her, and she 
desired none. Her world was within, and the 
patient dropping of the autumn leaves about 
her was soothing its strife to rest. 

Weeks passed. The arms of the Swedes were 
everywhere victorious. Only Stockholm still re- 
sisted and was surrounded by a besieging army. 

The news of its surrender was daily expected, 
when suddenly a message of terror spread like 
wild-fire from place to place through the land, 
the news that Gustav Erichson’s mother and sis- 
ters, who had been since the opening of the re- 
bellion captives in Stockholm, had been mur- 
dered at the command of Christian. 

The tidings penetrated even to Old Upsala. 
It was told Karin towards evening, the messen- 
ger added that no-one had seen Gustav Vasa 
since the intelligence reached him, that he had 
shut himself up, refusing food and drink, and 
gave no answer to his distressed attendants. 
Those who had listened a long time at his door 
declared — though to those who knew him it 
seemed past belief— that Gustav Erichson was 
weeping. 

Without a word Karin slowly wended her way 


to her accustomed seat on the Odin’s Hill. Here 
she sat as of old till the gold balls of the cathe- 
dral in Upsala began to glisten in the sun. 
Then she fell upon her knees before the sacrifi- 
cial stone and pressed her forehead upon its 
cold granite. Some moments later she rose 
calmly and descended the hill, going not in the 
direction of her home, but towards Upsala. 
She walked on without slackening or increasing 
her pace till the town came in view. Here she 
enquired as to the direction of Gustav Vasa’s 
house. A little child ran before and pointed it 
out. The officers who were gathered about the 
entrance fell back in surprise. They shrugged 
their shoulders as they pointed out, in reply to 
her request, the apartment where for two days 
past their commander had withdrawn himself 
from his nearest associates. But she knocked 
gently at the door and said, 

“Karin Stenbock desires to speak with Gustav 
Vasa.” 

And to the speechless astonishment of the by- 
standers, the door was hastily thrown open. 
Karin closed it as quickly behind her, and 
fixing her eyes upon the pale and haggard face 
of ilie man before her, said, 

“The word of a Swedish girl is not like that 
of Christian of Denmark. I will be mother and 
sister to you, Gustav Vasa.” 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

It was autumn. A year had passed since 
Gustav Erichson’s first meeting with the Rose 
of Trollluitta. Evil and mischief in overflow- 
ing measure had been poured upon Sweden by 
the relentless Christian, though counterbalanced 
in part by the good which Gustav Erichson’s in- 
strumentality had wrought. 

Meantime the earth had completed her annual 
round, bringing again the warm, sunny, north- 
ern autumn in her train. Beautiful was the 
blue arched dome of sky above the town of Up- 
sala, and dazzling the golden balls of the cathe- 
dral towers which glinted in the motionless, 
sunny air below. In the distance, rising far 
beyond the green forest, over rocky cliffs and 
impenetrable thickets, one might descry the 
stately burial mounds of Old Upsala’s kings, 
and more distant still a blue expanse of glas- 
sea. Everything seemed tinged with gold and 
blue, both heaven and earth. And great joy 
shone from the blue eyes of the girls, wives 
and men in Upsala. 


45 


KARIN. 


The broad highway leading towards Stock- 
holm was thronged with exnltant crowds, not 
from Upsala alone, but dwellers from Wester- 
manland^Sudermanland and Svealand were 
there, and those also from the icy regions of 
Norrland and Norrbotten. All eyes were turned 
expectantly to the South, from whence he was to 
come — he, whom none needed to name — no 
longer “‘Chief and Leader of the Swedish peo- 
ple,” but Gustav Vasa, King of Sweden! For a 
week past the “nobles and commons of the Swe- 
dish people’’ had been in session at Strengnas; 
two days before the Reichstag had chosen Gus- 
tav Erichson for their king. 

He came with radiant face and mild, benignant 
look, so new to the people who had chosen him. 
His whole expression pictured as in a mirror 
the warmth and glow and sunshine of that au- 
tumnal day. The mantle of kingly ermine 
drooped low over his horse as he rode proudly 
by the side of the milk-white palfrey of Karin 
Stenbock, the royal bride of Sweden. She, too, 
smiled graciously in passing. She wore no er- 
mine, but the jubilant throngs gazed in wonder- 
ing admiration at her beauty and her hair, fall- 
ing in sunny wealth from beneath the golden 
circlet. Thus Freya came upon golden-maned 
steed from the halls of Walhalla, shedding light 
upon the earth. Thus Freya looked upon the 
faces of men and smiled. 

But the smile dies suddenly upon Karin’s 
lips, and is replaced by a look of strange and 
wistful abstraction. Her white arm is lifted 
quickly from her horse’s neck; something comes 
fluttering through the still air and lights upon 
the uplifted arm. It is a white butterfly, with 
shining red spots upon its wings. It rests as 
fearlessly upon her hand as upon the chalice of 
some autumn flower, and extends its delicate 
wings. The women see it and show it to the 
men, the royal butterfly of the mountains has 
come down to the valley to greet Sweden’s 
queen. 

What means this rapt attention of Sweden’s 
queen, as she broods over the summer’s last 
messenger, the peaceful omen which the crowd 
greets rapturously? Is she listening to some 
sound from the West? Does she catch, faint and 
far oft', the distant roar of the Trollhatta? 

No — it is the rustling in the tree-tops on Odin’s 
Hill. Their withered lealage sways a greeting 
across to Karin. 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

The beating of the drums announcing the en- 
trance into the city, rouses the royal bride from 
her reverie. 


The burgomaster of Upsala, accompanied by 
his councillors, bends the knee before his king 
and welcomes him in a solemn address, whose 
conclusion is received with marks of approba- 
tion and relief. The procession moves on toward 
its destination. The streets through which it 
passes are transformed into a forest carpeted 
with reeds and pine-bouglis. And now the 
great square is reached from whose centre the 
ancient cathedral uprears its giant form. At 
the main portal the Archbishop of Upsala waited 
arrayed in all the insignia of his office and sur- 
rounded by the entire clergy, — a stately and 
dignified man, fully impressed with the weight 
and significance of his position. The young 
king, though encumbered with his ermine, 
sprang lightly to the ground and lifted Karin 
from her palfrey. They bent low before the 
Archbishop, who preceded them to the altar. 
With rare intuition the interior of the church 
had been left without ornamentation. The slen- 
der Gothii pillars, like garnered sheaves in 
their wonderful beauty and chasteness, rose to 
the dizzy height where the canopied dome 
rested upon the nave. The stained windows 
shed a mild and softened radiance which min- 
gled strangely with the light of the countless 
tapers upon the rich and costly altar. A great 
part of the immense edifice was filled by the 
royal suite, but behind them surged a mighty 
crowd, eager to cast one look upon the nuptials 
of King “Gosta” with Karin Stenbock. 

But at the moment when the solemn ceremony 
was about to begin, a messenger pushed his 
way through the crowd and whispered some 
words in the king’s ear. The latter excusing 
himself with the promise of speedy return, dis- 
appeared. The curious crowds were full of sur- 
mises as to the cause of this sudden exit which 
could make him leave his beautiful bride with 
her father and blind mother. But they were 
soon silenced by the re-appearance of the king. 
He approached the Archbishop with a radiant 
face and said, 

“Permit me, worthy father, to occupy your 
place for a moment. My message will not de- 
secrate its sanctity, foi it is holy and comes like 
yours from God.” 

Lightly mounting the steps of the altar, the 
king cried in a tone which penetrated to the ut- 
most recesses of the vast building, 

“Two messages from heaven to the Swedish 
people. Stockholm is ours; this morning at 
sunrise the Danish commander _surrendered 
the keys of the city!” 

A great shout of triumph broke simultaneous- 
ly from every lip. The last, long-hoped-for 


46 KARIN. 


goal was reached — Sweden was free! The joy 
of the populace was uncontrollable, they fell 
upon each other’s necks with tears and kisses, 
and the thousand-voiced rapturous cry rose and 
swelled and mounted the high pillars till it was 
re-echoed from the dome. 

“Long live King Gustav! Sweden is free!” 

“And will remain so,” sounded the voice of 
Gustav Vasa above the roar, “for I have another 
message for the Swedish people. The envoy 
whom I despatched to the court of the Emperor 
Charles V. has returned. The German Emperor 
formally renounces the cause of King Christian 
of Denmark. He acknowledges Sweden’s inde- 
pendence anxl proffers his friendship. Further- 
more, the Danish nation has revolted against 
King Christian and he is banished from the 
land.” 

His words were again greeted with thundering 
applause, through which one voice was plainly 
heard. It was the voice of Brita Stenbock 
crying, 

“I see you, Christian of Denmark, powerless 
forsaken, execrated and abhorred. I see you 
bowed under the maledictions of your people, 
laden with the scorn of humanity, beating with 
ghastly brow against your prison bars. I see 
the mocking shapes of your victims taunt you 
with your evil deeds, and the throne you cannot 
hold. The prophecy is half fulfilled, Christian 
of Denmark, await the end!” 

A shudder ran through the multitude at the 
words and at the cruel and relentless laugh 
which accompanied them, and which rebounded 
against the Gothic pillars like the wintry ice 
that Trollhatta dashes against its rocky sides. 
The light of Brita Stenbock’s eyes was extin- 
guished, but her hate was undying — it pursued 
its doomed victim over land and sea, rousing 
him from the exhausted sleep of despair to goad 
him on unceasingly to his ruin. 

For a moment Brita Stenbock stood like an 
incarnate Nemesis, or Death itself, threatening 
Christian with its horrors, then she fell back in- 
sensible into her daughter’s arms. She re- 
covered quickly, but her agitation seemed to 
have been communicated to Karin, whose eyes 
had an ominous light as the king led her by the 
hand to the altar, whispering, 

“The second condition is now fulfilled, Rose 
of Trollhatta — Sweden is now free!” 

She did not meet his gaze, she answered, 
“Yes, the conditions are all fulfilled — Sweden is 
free.” 

“And you are its queen.” 

He felt a thrill pass over the girl’s frame, a 
tremor of mingled fear and pride. She stepped 
firmly upon the velvet carpoting of the altar. 


“In the name of God Almighty, I salute yotl, 
King Gustav of Sweden, whom the people have 
chosen to reign over them. Races of kings have 
come and gone in this spot. The priests of an- 
other faith placed the crown upon the heads of 
the Ynglings, the sons of Odin the Mighty. But 
they fell like the leaves in the autumn, and 
their memory is effaced. The proud race of the 
Folkungs received their crowns here from the 
messengers of the gospel, and were anointed 
with holy oil from Rome. But they have 
vanished like waves of the sea leaving no trace. 
Many came with proud name and haughty look 
and were crowned and anointed, but where is 
their record? For it is not oil from the hands 
of men which makes the small great and the 
weak mighty, but it is the Spirit of the living 
God, which is justice and liberty and humanity, 
which enlightens the great that their remem- 
brance perish not from off the earth and their 
days be not like dust before the blast of the 
north. Therefore I welcome you, Gustav Vasa, 
to the ancient city of kings, and lift my hands in 
humble gratitude to the great King above all.” 

m#m 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Thus began the speech of the venerable Arch- 
bishop of Upsala, his clear and melodious ut- 
terance fell solemnly unon the ears of the mul- 
titude, and swelled the heart of every hearer 
like the wind in the sails of a ship. Most pow- 
erfully they moved Karin Stenbock who looked 
proudly at the majestic figure at her side, upon 
the man whom she heard extolled as an instru- 
ment of heaven, who was adored by his people, 
and who had chosen her above all women to fi- 
nish with her aid his work, to heal the wounds 
of strife with the balm of peace, and found a 
kingdom of justice, liberty, happiness and hu- 
manity. Yes, Karin looked for the first time, 
with pride and jov, at the white ermine which 
fell from the shoulders of her royal lover. 
Once more she seemed to hear above her the 
gentle murmuring in the tree-tops on the Mound, 
“To serve others, to further the right!” 

How different had been the fulfilment from 
what she tnen had thought. How differently 
might a queen embody the motto which the 
sunlight over the sleeping world had engraven 
on her soul. No, this duty would be a choice, a 
proud and happy choice. 

During the Archbishop’s address Karin’s eyes 
wandered from the vault above her to the faces 
which crowd about the altar. 

But look! The beautiful eyes quiver and 
their lustre grows dim. They seem to be fixed 


47 


EAR I : N. 


rigidly upon a column of red porphyry which 
supports the vault of the nave at the right of the 
altar. The daylight does not penetrate thus 
far, neither does the glimmer of the tapers, but 
the reflection of both enwraps it in a magic 
gloom. A strange frame it is for the head of 
one of the spectators, who leans against the pil- 
lar with eyes fixed upon the altar. There is 
something spectral as well in the light, as in the 
pale face it illumines. It is hard to discern 
whether the face is young or old. The features 
and the tall, Slender figure are those of a young 
man, but they are belied by the hair which 
clusters heavily over the brow. It must have 
been blonde once, but it is as if sprinkled with 
ashes. The eyes likewise have an ashen hue. 
They are more lifeless than Brita Stenbock’s 
lifeless orbs, which seem gazing into futurity as 
she listens to the words of the speaker. 

Many an eye hung on the face of the girl so 
soon to be Sweden’s queen, and followed her 
every look. And many turned to seek the 
favored object of her attention, while they ques- 
tioned, 

“Who can that be, with the strange lace 
leaning against the pillar yonder? The queen 
seems to be looking at him.” 

“Hush!” was the answer,” that is the envoy 
who has just returned from the German Empe- 
ror. He may well wonder at the angel which 
Gosta has picked up in his absence. It is plain 
to see that he never in all his life saw such a 
beauty. But listen to the Archbishop. Hush!” 
The whispering was hushed. All eyes were 
turned upon the prelate who now took from a 
costly tray two circlets, the symbols of plighted 
faith, alike with queen and peasant. Only 
Karin Stenbock’s eyes did not change, only the 
eyes of the stranger by the pillar never altered 
their look. 

“Karin,” said those mute and lustreless eyes, 
“the ancient bard stood on the brink of the 
Trollhatta and looked down. Happy life sur- 
rounded him, the sun flooded his brow, the 
flowers nodded, the birds sang, and he shud- 
dered before the power which beckoned him 
with enticing arms into the abyss. How often 
would he try to escape. But an evil spell drew 
his eyes to the roaring Avaters, and nearer and 
nearer he came, till the spirits of the deep 
claimed him for their own, and the seething 
torrent closed above him.” 

The Archbishop took the icy hand of the royal 
bride of Sweden and slipped the ring upon her 
finger. The great assemblage waited breath- 
lessly. 

“Karin,” said those mute and lustreless eyes, 
,,were those the lips that spoke, ‘Be not weary, 


poor Gustav, lor if you should grow weary, and 
the stream had seized mo, and it were too late 
to save me?’ Were those the lips that whis- 
pered, ‘Do not forsake Karin?’ Was it Gustav 
Rosen to whom they said, ‘For I love you so 
dearly — so dearly’?” 

“God Almighty guard and protect you, King' 
and Queen of Sweden, and lead your hearts in’ 
the Avav of happiness to the Avelfare of your land. 
His blessing rest upon you and give you peace!” ‘ 

Like a simple citizen Gustav Vasa bent to kiss 
the lips of his wife. As one wakened from a 
heavy dream, the Queen of Sweden lifted her 
blue eyes from the face by the pillar. They 
wandered aimlessly to the flowing mantle of 
snoAvy ermine, then she tottered, and, stretching 
out her hands, fell into Gustav Erichson’s arms 
with the cry, “It is the Trollhatta!” 

Only one in the vast concourse understood 
her words. The rest saAV the young queen fall 
into her husband’s arms, but did not see how he 
was forced to support her unconscious form in 
his strong embrace and whisper words of loving 
comfort into her ear. 

“The fault is yours, mother,” said he turning 
to Brita Stenbcck, “the past is dead, let it sleep. 
Why must you summon the ghosts of Torpa to 
mar this happy day?” 

The blind woman made no reply, but her 
daughter raised herself slowly and spoke. 

“The ghosts of Torpa,” she repeated with her 
hand on her brow, “it is as you say, they are 
dead, let them sleep.” 

And taking her husband’s arm, Karin passed 
out with a firm step from the church. The reti- 
nue followed, and lastly came the countless 
throng of lookers-on. Soon no one Avas left un- 
der the lofty cathedral dome, but he who alone 
had understood Karin ofSAveden’s words. 

He remained leaning in the same attitude 
against the pillar, the altar-lights Avere extin- 
guished, and the sun shed pale rays through the 
stained glass, but the mute and lustreless eyes 
Avere still bent upon the empty space before the 
altar. At last, the verger came and asked with 
respectful surprise, “Are you ill, Sir?” 

Gustav Rosen started, looked enquiringly into 
the face of the man and went silently aAvay. 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Outside when the bridal train had crossed 
the Fyriso river, King Gustav paused for a mo- 
ment and pointing to the west ol the towm where 
a green eminence sloped gently to the south, 
said softly to his young Avife, “We Avill build us 
a castle yonder and be happy.” 


KARIN. 


43 

Kirin raised her eves to his. ‘Yes, irom 
there we shall see the trees on the Odin’s Hill,” 
she answered gravely. 

And now all flocked to the house which had 
been set apart for the reception of the bridal 
pair. It was the stateliest of the town, and a 
grand banquet was spread in its spacious halls. 
At the head of the table, upon chairs surmounted 
by the royal arms, sat the first King and Queen 
whom Stved m had known for a half century. 
At the left of Gustav Yasa the mild and earnest 
fice of the chief prelate of the realm was to be 
seen. According to the ancient Swedish custom, 
numerous healths, or “Skais,” went round the 
board. 

How strangely like yet unlike that banquet- 
table which the Spring had seen in Torpa’s now 
ruined halls! Many of the same faces still, yet 
how changed in expression! Gustav Stenbock’s 
hardy features were relaxed in mild content, 
and the blind face at his side had lost its stern 
rigidity, whilst Karin once again sat beside a 
king of Sweden. 

But not tremblingly, not with the fitful color 
coming and going in her cheeks, but with steady, 
earnest eyes, beautiful and calm, — beautiful as 
the mild autumn resting over Sweden’s new 
freedom, and calm as the tree-tops of Odin's 
Hill soaring upward into the blue sky. 

At the lower end of the table, sat as at Torpa, 
a silent guest. He neither spoke nor tasted food 
nor drink. Through the flickering tapers he 
beheld the Queen of Sweden, but beyond and 
above her, hovering in the dim and misty dis- 
tance, a dream-vision of Karin Stenbock. He 
saw a rocky valley with the Trollhatta flowing 
through, and there in the beautiful springtide 
stood Karin with sun-illumined hair, saying, 
“Do not weep, Gustav, when I am grown I will 
go with you to Denmark!” 

The vision beckoned and smiled into his mute 
and lustreless eyes, and the words it spoke were 
audible above the festive din. And then it said, 
through, tears, in a broken voice, “Do not weep, 
Gustav, for I shall be your wife and mother too, 
and we will go together to Denmark.” 

A tear fell upon the untouched silver plate of 
the silent guest, and Gustav Rosen started again 
as his neighbor enquired, “Are you ill, Sir?” 

He rose and was about to leave the banquet- 
hall as he had the cathedral, but he was arrested 
by a look from the king, who at the same mo- 
ment also rose from his seat. 

“Silence! The King desires to speak!” There 
was an expectant pause. 

“We have drunk to the health of many gallant 
men, whose ve.lor in the cause of liberty is 


known to all. But who shall say how many hard 
struggles have been fought in secret. Let us 
honor those who had first to conquer them- 
selves before embracing the just cause. I raise 
mj r glass in honor of the man whose arduous 
task it has been to win the German Emperor to 
our cause, and whose labors have been crowned 
with success. To the man but for whose coura- 
geous arm the noble mother of your queen 
would not now be with us — to you, Gustav 
Rosen!” 

The King emptied his goblet at a draught and 
his example was followed by the rest of the com- 
pany. Gustav Vasa thought only of the night 
in which he had rescued the doomed man from 
Torpa, and of the full and free confession of 
guilt he had then made, that in adhering to the 
cause of Christian he had served execrable ends. 
He had offered his services in aid of Sweden, and 
Gustav Erichson had with wise forethought en- 
trusted him with a commission to the German 
emperor. 

Had he thought to combine another purpose 
with the long journey? Unconsciously perhaps, 
but that was loug since forgotten. For Karin’s 
“Never” was fixed iuett'aceably in his mind. 
When he had asked her on the Gota-Elf, “Will 
you return to Gustav Rosen?” and she had an- 
swered, “Never. Between us there is a gulf, as 
between this shore and the Trollhatta. My 
heart no longer belongs to Sweden's betrayer.’’ 

What did Gustav Rosen know of those eyes 
which bound Karin to Sweden? Or Gustav Vasa 
of the eyes which had loved Gustav Rosen? 

And now Sweden is free. 

Did Gustav Erichson’s envoy dream perchance 
that he might thereby atone for his crime, and 
returning say to Karin, “I was blinded when I 
betrayed Sweden, but now I have aided the 
cause of your land aud mine?” 

But the way is far from the Trollhatta to the 
Alps. When Gustav Erichson again reached 
Upsala the bells of the cathedral and of all 
Sweden were summoning all to the marriage of 
their queen. 

He was a proud and knightly king to whom 
she had given her hand; a strong, a wise and 
noble spirit. Was there a maid in the Swedish 
land who did not envy Karin her fate? And 
many a man prized Gustav Vasa’s crown more 
lightly than the spotless pearl of Trollhatta’s 
foam, which glistened in its golden setting at his 
side. She also rose at his last words. “Gustav 
Rosen!” he said and she had risen from her 
seat. She cast one look down at the end of the 
table — once more the queen had vanished and 
the dream-vision came and stood in her stead in 


40 


KARIN. 


the banquet-hall of Upsala. But she turned 
aside and it faded farther and farther aw iv into 
the dim, irrevocable past. 

Night fell and midnight came, hushing the 
sounds of feasting in the bridal hall of Upsala. 
Silence rested on the great Swedish land, and in 
the north the Aurora Borealis shot up in spark- 
ling rays to the zenith and kept watch over tiie 
ancient city of kings. 

►'-+♦>- 4 — 

CHAPTER XL. 

The morn rose fair and smiling to greet the 
emancipated land. The young king generously 
dismissed the Danish garrison of Stockholm to 
their homes. The claims of justice and human- 
ity were once more enforced in Sweden. An 
autumn of rare and summer-like mildness 
greeted the new-won freedom; as far as the eye 
could range, the fields were green with the young 
harvest, and the trees were covered a second 
time with blossoms. Autumn seemed to have 
joined hands with Spring and to have triumphed 
forever over the might of winter. The peasants 
harvested their grain and looked with almost 
superstitious devotion upon their youthful 
rulers, to whom they gratefully attributed all the 
blessings which were now scattered upon the 
devastated and war-stricken land. Especially 
was it regarded as the gift of Karin, whose eyes 
watched ceaselessly over the needy among her 
subjects, who with the wisdom of age, and the 
winning grace of youth, fulfilled the grave duties 
ot her position. 

Her ear was open to all, and the appearance 
of her white palfrey on the outskirts of a village 
■was the signal for the children to greet with 
joyous shouts the arrival of the “good queen.” 
The king saw with delight how she won all 
hearts to herself. He was frequently her com- 
panion on these expeditions, but more often 
weighty matters of state kept him in Upsala. So 
Karin rode alone through field and forest, with 
a single attendant following behind. She was 
often so lost in meditation as she thus rode that 
she* did not notice when her unreined horse 
stood still. She uttered no word of her thought 
even to herself. Her deligli t was to ride towards 
the sea, and from some elevation look out over 
its broad expanse. Her attendant knew that 
hours were as minutes to her then, but she was 
never displeased when he approached and 
pointed respectfully to the sun which was sink- 
ing rapidly behind her. She would turn her 
horse silenlty at this warning and ride back, 
and the inmates of the little villages along her 
route never saw the beautiful face of their young 


queen otherwise than calm and gracious. Thus 
she rod 3 home today. A vear had elapsed 
since her meeting with Gustav Yasa by the 
Trollhatta, and she had waited longer than w r as 
her wont upon the hill, looking out over the 
illimitable stretch of sea whore sky and earth 
blended in indistinguishable union. And today, 
too, she rode back till the square tower of Old 
Upsala greeted her at the right through leafless 
lindens. A sudden impulse seized ; er, she 
lifted her eyes to the lofty trees which cast their 
shadows from the burial mounds over the vil- 
lage, and motioned to her attendant to pursue 
his way back alone to the city. 

Turning aside to avoid the village she rode 
through fields to the foot of the Odin’s Hill, 
where she dismounted and left her palfrey 
behind. 

“You will wait for me, I know,” she said in a 
strange low voice, laying her hand upon its 
arched neck, “to bear me back to my palace 
home.” 

Slowly she climbed the hill. Perhaps her 
long riding habit impeded her progress through 
the dead leaves, for she often stopped as if 
weary and rested her head upon her hand. And 
now the summit was gained and the sinking sun 
shone full in her face. Its pale and greenish 
light fell aslant the quiet valley and upon the 
brown beech leaves which lay thickly strewn 
upon the ancient altar stone. But Karin knew 
every hollow of the rock as if each had been 
formed by a drop of her heart’s blood. She ad- 
vanced mechanically to the spot where her 
strength had failed when Gustav Yasa left her 
in his wild despair, and where she had sunk 
upon her knees and pressed her forehead against 
the cold stone before she herself had started on 
the road to'Upsala. She staggered back as she 
had done then, and the calm face of the young 
queen was well nigh distorted again with pas- 
sionate grief and her breast wrung by a cry of 
uncontrollable anguish. 

Suddenly she was startled by a rustling among 
the dry leaves. The sunlight which gleamed 
across from the gold balls ol the cathedral in 
Upsala was obstructed by a tall figure leaning 
motionless against the trunk of a tree a tew feet 
distant. The man also turned slowly, then ut- 
tered a wild cry — it was Gustav Rosen. 

Their blue eyes met over the ancient stone- 
met as they so often had done in the dim, un- 
conscious days of their sunny childhood. Met 
in speechless, motionless sorrow. A moment 
and then — 

Then the youth turned and with a convulsive 
sob strode down the hill towards the meadow. 

4J 


50 


I 


KARIN. 


“Gustav — ” cried Karin. He heard, but did 
not slacken his pace. 

“I command you, Gustav, stop! Your queen 
commands—” 

But it was no. tone of command, but one ot 
sorrow unutterable; of entreaty, not command. 
With the sadness of death upon his lace, Gustav 
Rosen turned and came back. 

Karin advanced quietly to meet him, ail trace 
of grief had vanished from her face, her heaving 
bosom was at rest, her eyes were calm as the 
autumn about her. 

“We must say farewell for a time, Gustav — ,, 
her voice did not tremble, she took his hand in 
her quiet grasp. “Often as children we parted 
when the sun went down, and it always rose 
anew.” 

She pointed with her other hand to the fiery 
ball. The last withered leaf from the tree tops 
floated down and rested in her golden hair. She 
took it with a sad smile and offered it to him. 
“I have many flowers which you have given me 
in memory of the spring,” she said. “They 
bloom by the Trollhatta, and now it is autumn, 
and I can give you no remembrance but this 
leaf.” 

He took it and crushed it to atoms in his hand. 
His lips parted in a whisper which could not 
hide his unsteady voice, 

“Tell me but this, Karin, and I will leave you, 
tell me this, are you happy? Do you love Gustav 
Vasa?” 

The queen fixed her eyes on the gilded balls 
of the cathedral towers. 

“She who calls him husband is fortunate 
among women,” she replied softly. 

“Do you love Gustav Vasa, Karin? 

He repeated the question trembling and with 
violently suppressed passion. The fate of two 
human souls hung upon her answer, and Karin 
lifted her blue eyes to her lover’s face and said 
in a firm, unshaken voice, “Yes.” 

Gone was the fair light of day, and the cool 
night wind blew shivering through the dusky 
air. A wild, passionate cry broke from Gustav 
Rosen’s lips, he reached forth Ins arms madly 
and clasped Karin to his breast. But she freed 
herself quickly from his embiace. 

“Sweden’s queen walks unharmed through 
the solitudes of the forest, and enters fearlessly 
every peasant’s hut. Will you alone abuse her 


liberty, Gustav?” she asked mildly. 

His hands drooped to his side and his eyes 
overflowed with tears. But once again her arms 
were about his neck and her eyes lit with all the 
splendor of the past looked close into his own. 
“Farewell, my Gustav,” she said as she bent 
over him and kissed him. 

Like a white star the Queen of Sweden’s pal- 
frey vanished through the twilight and the pines. 

Peaceful as of old she entered her home and 
smoothed her husband’s careworn brow with 
the gentle touch of her loving hand. Many 
cares pressed upon the young king and banished 
sleep from his pillow. And that night as he lay 
sleepless, so say the old chronicles, Karin opened 
her lips and spoke in her dream. And as he 
bent over her she murmured, 

“Konig Gustav licb’ ich gewisslicli sehr, 

Doch Gustav Rosen vergesseich nimmermelir.” 


Nevermore! The waves of the Malar hear it 
and roll it a ong. And Lake Hielniar bears it 
across to the infinite expanse of the Wener and 
out through the gates of rock — then come the 
falls of Trollhatta. 

They approach like the fate of man, peaceful 
and transparent, kissing the nodding grasses 
that bend above them. Then a whirl and a 
more rapid rushing, unconscious of impending 
evil, but the stillness and transparency are gone 
to return nevermore. Faster they glide along, 
impelled by an imperative and irresisiible force, 
till they are drawn at last into the devouring 
chasm below. 

The; e are the falls of Trollhatta. The centuries 
are lost in the voice of their thunder. The boy 
who played by their side grows to manhood and 
his hair whitens. And when for the last time he 
totters out to them upon Ins staff, they are as on 
the day when first lie beheld them, bordered with 
flowers like the Spring, and snow white like the 
Winter. They have thundered here thousands 
and thousands of years before a human ear was 
nigh to hear them. They dash their silvery 
spray far out over the rocks and the suulight 
glistens and glitters upon it in gladsome colors. 
But beneath the dazzling, majestic veil the rush- 
ing and roaring waters are surging and sighing. 
Well for him who would forget to sit upon their 
brink where the falling waters deaden memory. 


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